welcome to my life *edit*

“Someone’s boring me. I think it’s me.” ~Dylan Thomas

So yea, there’s like nothing to do, and nobody is online to talk to so I’m writing here. I haven’t decided yet what this entry is about. Maybe I’ll do something totally off the wall and actually write about what I did all day. For once. Even though nothing particularly exciting or noteworthy occured. Wierd.

Woke up this morning, approximately 10 am. Rolled over and admonished the morning. Admonished. Right word? *looks up definition* ‘To reprove gently but earnestly’… I think is right… *looks up ‘reprove’* ‘To voice or convey disapproval of’ … Yes, right word. Perhaps unorthodox usage, but right word. I strongly disapproved of the morning. But I’d already been asleep for 8 hours and my body (stupid body) told me it was wakeup time. So 10:30ish (without getting out of bed, mind you) I turn on laptop and log on. No one else is online at that ungodly hour of morning (can you tell I’m nocturnal??) so I go downstairs and proceed to watch Lifetime: television for women. In the morning they have alternating syndicated episodes of Golden Girls and The Nanny. At least until noon, when Unsolved Mysteries is on (also syndicated I believe, being as the one lady had a permed mullet, and the host’s hair was BROWN whereas in more recent episodes its GRAY)

sidenote: I’ve just now noticed phil and dale are online, so I am attempting conversation with them… you may be spared from hearing about the rest of my day…
5 minutes later–having some success on the conversation front, but not tremendously so… thus I shall continue to write here whilst conversing with them

Hmm my fish look hungry…I wonder if I fed them today? Yes I did! I remember because I commented that Wally looks the same as the day I got him, but Mashimaru (I didn’t name him) is getting fat. I need to get them a light for the tank… they’re losing pigmentation…

Anyway, after Unsolved Mysteries, I watched my soap opera. (OMG today Whitney told Chad that Miles is his son! And Ethan told Teresa he loved her!! And Rachel’s dead corpse popped out of her coffin and Sheridan had a flashback of when she killed Rachel!!! And Spike might have killed Symone!!!!) Then I ate lunch. Then I took my sister to work. Then I got a shower. Then I went to the grocery store con mi mama y mi hermanita. Then we came home. We had dinner (chicken, corn on the cob, and garlic angel hair pasta. Yum). I took my sister to cheerleading practice, stopped by Redner’s to get something I forgot, and picked my other sister up from work on the way home. (Yes I am the resident chauffer). Came on the computer and checked email for a bit, then went out again to pick my sister up from cheerleading. Got home and disrobed as I don’t really like clothing (TMI) and surfed the ‘net for about 4 hours or so. Until now. Which is now 12:38. AM.

My conversation with Phil has taken an *ahem* interesting turn… to say the least… *blinks several times* perhaps its worthy of posting… not sure yet though–it may incriminate me and/or him… haha, those are the best kind, no?

*edit 2:18 am*
Ok, so I know that the whole point of this diary is that I’m supposed to be writing for me. Me. Not you, you self-absorbed mother effer ( j/k! I don’t mean that!!) Ok, but still it makes me sad when I write an entry and then I check back to see if there are any notes and there aren’t even though its only been like an hour and a half and its like two in the morning. Sad. Sad. Sad. Boredom is driving me INSANE–I don’t even know why I’m up at this hour. I’ve decided to go back and read all your diaries from the beginnings if i haven’t already. Oh yea, I’m totally blaming it on hormones. And I’m allowed to do that. Yes because I’m a girl and thats what we do. I should go to bed now. But I dont wanna. Actually more like couldn’t even if I tried. First of all, already in bed. (Gotta love laptop with wireless internet.) But second of all, and more important, I’m not tired. Despite the fact that I got up earlier this morning than I have in like ever. Ok, so i got up earlier than that on Sunday. But that didn’t count. Because I set an alarm. And went to church. But 10 am!! Thats like early for me. Early.

Random observation: Fish food looks a lot like the skin that is currently peeling off of my face as a result of the sunburn from the shore the other day. Sunburn did not hurt. Peeling does not hurt. But face is blotchy because the skin that is peeling off is brown and tan and pretty and the skin underneath is light tan, and almost pinkish. I AM NOT WHITE!! Not. Not. Blotchiness would attempt to contradict that statement.

I’m excited because tomorrow through Thursday I get to pet-sit for my Ren darling. Why does this excite me? Because it means that at least for three days, my existance will have a purpose. I need to make sure the doggy and the kitty are fed. And that the doggy doesn’t do her business inside the house. See? Purpose. I do have a purpose. For at least three days, I will not feel worthless.

OK, OK… I’m done being depressed, no more depressed rants or poems for at least a week, k? I really should write more though. Especially if I want to maybe do it professionally. *gasp* What’s this? Do I maybe know almost sorta kinda what I think I sorta kinda wanna be??? Except I’m wary of being a writer because one actually has to write something worthwhile and *then* get somebody to publish it, and *then* get people to read and/or buy it. (At least buy, even if they don’t read, because buy is where you make the bucks.) God I would so love to be a writer. Or an artist of any sort really… sketchy stuff though. Because if you’re a writer, or an artist, people have to actually *like* what you do in order for you to make money.

Money money money. I hate effing money. Why can’t we be all communist-love-everybody’s-equal? Oh right. Because at my core I really am a social Darwinist. Yes it’s awful, but perhaps survival of the fittest has its merits. Maybe poor people are poor because they weren’t meant to make it? Please don’t be offended. I say this even in the midst of my parents declaring bankruptcy. Our house has (nearly) gone to Sherrif’s Sale twice. Twice! The bill collectors are threatening to shut off our cable. Our phones. Our water. Our electric. Mom borrows money from me to pay the bills until she gets her check, but I owe her $700 for fixing my car. We are not rich, by any means. Not complaining. Just saying. I almost just deleted this paragraph. But it stays, because I have to not care what other people think. I’m blaming it on the hormones. And the fact that its (now) 3am. Just ignore my blabbering self.

Ok, perhaps I should now make a good-faith attempt at sleep. I think it might actually work now.