There was once...

Dear James,

I've thought about it enough to know that I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time. So who on god's green earth would really accept a religious school for psycics?

I hate with depth. Beauty, in the dark.

And the only person who would understand doesn't care anymore? Doesn't read it, or anything...I am lost.

Thank you, James. For being there. Or here.

love,

The Mouse

For James, Again

It's not as if I wish anything in life...execept for a person like me....

"gravedigger...dig me a shallow grave...so that I can feel the rain..."

And here I am again. Wondering if I'm crazy girl or totally insane.

Who am I? I don't know.

And when I do, I will be wrong.

Life in a nutshell...or so I think.

And farther down I sink

into that which I am not

but it is my lot

to be where I am in life

to have this never-ending strife

and all I can ask of the gravedigger

is that which Dave can

A shallow grave to feel the rain.

Here We Go Again

I have a story. A better story. I want to write it all down. I think it would be a good story.

I just hope it wasn't as lame as the last one.

And, of course, this means not paying attention to the boy...who, incidentally, wants to write his own story.

For those who know me well:

Boy: "Well, when I start writing, I have a tendency to ignore everything else and just focus on the writing."

Gosh, doesn't that sound like someone you know? In fact, I would welcome that...at least, then, I can get on with my writing without interruptions. Although we've had a breakthrough -- he's at least learned my "If you interrupt me one more time, I will seriously kill you" look...along with the "Are you aware that I'm contemplating your death" look. FINALLY. Ugh.

WHY do they take so long to train?

A Bit of a Rant...

...or, "How I feel unloved at the moment."

So I have mono. I never knew it was this bad. This sore throat thing is incredibly painful...I can't eat and have a hard time swallowing anything, including my meds and any pain relievers. I've lost over 20 pounds because of it and I'm starving all the time.

So my boy calls me up on this fine Labor Day and says, "Well, I was going to come over and spend the day with you, so I went jogging early..." so of course, with the best intentions, he falls and gets hurt. No big deal. Fine, I can understand that he won't join me because he's hurt. But then, he has the audacity to claim, "I bet I'm in more pain than you are."

Oh, no, he didn't.

I can't eat. I can barely drink water. I flinch everytime I swallow. Pain? I'm on vicadin which makes me nauseous, which makes me nervous because vomiting with a sore throat makes it that much more painful. I wake up crying in the morning because it feels like my throat's on fire and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. He can take aspirin and just be uncomfortably sore. I can't. He can still eat. I can't. I take three or four showers a day because I sweat so much but I don't really have a fever. I'm cold and clammy all over, I can't go to work, or go get coffee, or go drinking, or smoke, or do anything and this punk claims that he's in more pain than I am. I can't even talk, dammit, and boy was I pissed enough to say something even though it hurt like hell. When I'm better again, he's gonna get a good talking to, the kind where he gets mad at me for it. And I don't care. Why? Because I'm really sick and dammit, I'm not gonna take that.

Grrrr.

A Bit Of Nothing, Really

A Rant:

well, gee...as if there aren't a million times that i felt like leaving the bar...but no, i had to drive you home first...or that sort of thing. so now that you live close to the bars, you can leave whenever, even though "you want to spend your time with me". maybe i'm stupid. maybe i thought you were different. but don't you dare think that you're different from any other man. you want someone who is less intelligent than you are. rare is it, that a man wants a woman who is smarter than he is. very rare. i had that once, but dammit, like a fool, like a million fools, i gave that up for the chance that he would be happy with someone more in his liking. maybe that's what i have to do with you. i could tell you everything that has to do with me, and you'd never understand nor would you listen. but am i grammatically correct? does it matter? apparently it does. oh, i'm sorry, i'm just a DUMBASS, like everyone else. too bad you have no idea of spirituality. too bad you don't know what it's like to stare at trees for hours as the sun sets and you think of God. too bad that you just don't know that what i say becomes true, or that i'm psycic or anything. too bad for you the world revolves around logic...because, if you're human, there is no logic. and you're just as human as anyone else...actually, if i had to have a theory, you're hypersensitive. forget any syndrome....you're just a ninny like a lot of people i know, the type who can't swallow their own sarcasm. if you're going to be snide to me, be prepared for the most snide (or is it snidist? not like i'd know....) comments you could think of...and then some....
...and then the doorbell rings....?

Sometimes I wonder why I'm such a girl. Dammit, I have ovaries! Isn't that enough????

Amusement!

This is waaaaaaaaaay too much fun. TRY IT!

(Taken from Dave Barry's Blog.)

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