I have hope.

I feel incredible. The sky is blue. The air is warm yet crisp. My hair is pretty sexy.

Last session, my Rapist said I could talk about whatever I wanted. So all week, I plotted what I’d talk about. I thought I’d talk about some things I’ve written in my journal. Quoting things. I ended up not needing to. Before leaving to go eat (and mail the mix CD for The Diariest Known As Jenny Knoxville, which ate so much time I had to woof down a bowl of cereal in five minutes), a quickly wrote down the titles and topics I talked about on Open Diary in the past week. Now, look at my contents page. I write a LOT in a week. God damn!

So I spent the entire time babbling. I got up to the entry before A Word About Agnosticism before we had to stop. I surprised myself by summarizing that entire entry in five sentences or less. But yeah. I talked. We stopped now and then to discuss little points. Like the internal control she discussed last session, and the obsessive external control Cliff talked about to compensate for my seeming lack of internal control. At least, that’s how I understand it. Talked about how nice it is to have a dad that will say “Here’s 12 grand, GOTO Aussieland.” My seeming importance of sexuality. Yes, I discussed Angel’s pussy. I mean, why the hell not? I talked about it here. She said we could discuss sexuality if I wanted to. That could easily eat a session, starting with my observation of how our sexual fantasies seem to be related to our fears.

Lots of stuff. I was wired and already wrote all of this out in my journal while sitting in Expos 2. She more or less assigned the first draft of the research paper, asked us to hand in our folders (Which I didn’t bother purchasing because I don’t have much to put in it), and leave. So, I have time. Life is always good when you get out of class after ten minutes. *stretches*

There’s an information 3 – 4 pm, regarding studying abroad. I’ll probably just relax until then. My brain is still a little tired from writing that Homosexuality entry – and from babbling my mind off. Might read after the information session. I’ll eat, then do my best to pull a Timmy on that Computer Architecture exam. :: emits Aura :: Tonight, I’ll read more. Tomorrow morning I have my last class before Spring Break. And in the afternoon, I drive out of here to drop the Van off at Country Tire, then… begin the process of studying and writing papers. And scheduling two days with Cliff. I’m not stupid enough to have a Spring break without seeing Mister Cliff.

I know that if I know what I’m talking about, or have confidence in my knowledge, I can talk about anything. Each of those double entries I wrote over the past two nights about to two 8 or 9 pages papers, each. And I did that for fun. I’ve known this, it’s just incredibly subtle to exploit. I like reading Marxist philosophy. Once I read the actual history texts, it SHOULD be easy to bang up a paper for that Socialism and Communism midterm. That book for Motivation and Emotion (The Unquiet Mind) isn’t painfully hard to read. Metaphysics, I’ll have to space out the readings, lest I be intimidated. I can do it, or at least do enough to write those two short two-page essays.

I amuse myself. I declare I want a loving blowjob when I’m sad, thinking it will perk my mood. And now that I’m happy, I think of how great a loving blowjob would be. Obviously not to make me happy, but to exploit the good mood. Perhaps my masturbation fortunes will change soon, but I’m content to ignore my penis until it comes calling for attention.

I want to ride a motorcycle, hair flying behind me. I want two daughters – and a son. Amazingly, I already have two names in mind for the girls. I want to name one after my Grandma. Shirley. And. On my Grandma’s side, the name Amelia used to be passed down from mother to daughter, a female lineage. I want to bring that name back. I do dream, even though I may not always admit it. Soon enough, I’ll try to bring out all of them.

Hope is a dangerous thing. (I gleaned that from Schindler’s List a long time ago, and have remembered it since.) I have hope. And damn, it feels good.