Saturday, February 09, 2002

I hate incompetent people. My mother becomes more incompetent by the day. I hate having to act like her mother. I don't have kids because I don't want them, but with her I'm forced to be her mom and my own. Yuck. I was supposed to bring chips for spanish class yesterday, I told my mom to remind me. She didn't. Naturally. I told my parents I had a company player's meeting yesterday earlier this week. I totally forgot about it so it's not surprising that they spaced out, but she's bitching at me for not telling her about it. *rolls eyes* This isn't unusual. We tell her what she has to do when. If she has an appointment, when her TV shows are on, la de da. We have to remind her of everything a million times. One time she said "it's a good thing I have you guys, I mean, I could remember all that stuff, but I don't have to so I don't".

Today she decided to go to the doctor's office because she has a smelly ear and now thinks she has brain cancer. Well, she's all confused about insurance so she sends me on the internet to find it for her. This isn't unusual but usually whenever I find what she needs she goes and looks for it by herself. Today I didn't have the option because my computer's fucking up and won't let me. I tell her to talk to my brother and she gets pissy at me. Then she declares that her sister must be called. I nod okay and go on my merry little wishlist-book-making spree when she tells me to call her sister. Now I even have to dial the fucking phone for her? Is she that incompetent?

This annoys me. But she's been annoying me lot lately so it's not surprising. The olympics were on last night and my mom's saying how look on TV Brittany, these are the best people in the world. The best people in the world. I roll my eyes because while they may be the best winter-sport athletes in the world, that doesn't make them the best people. Then she talks about that one year the US boycotted the olympics and that was so sad because those poor people missed what could have been their only chance at the olympics and politics shouldn't get in the way of things like that. Everything should be on hold for these great people.

Just because they're athletes. Great, so they rock the sport they're in, fabulous. They're not gods, they're not demi-gods, they're humans who just happened to have the right DNA and the right circumstances to go be all sporty. What about other international events that aren't sports. Should everything be on hold for those people? My mom couldn't name any of them so she wouldn't know.

Then she's saying how dare they show something else on TV besides the olympics, that was so rude, la de da. And I don't know how but somehow this book, Fruits, I want came up. It's all just pictures of Japanese Street Photography. My mom asked if I had any examples of what "japanese street photography" is and of course I jump up, not thinking of the consequences that something like this would have. I grab a picture from a magazine which is actually the cover of Fruits and she mouths the words "oh my god". Then she says how it's one thing to be different but it's an entire other thing to be ugly and blah blah.

It's a good thing she thinks I'm pretty otherwise she'd apparently never let me out of the house the way I dress. Because it's okay to dress unusually as long as you're pretty or your clothes are pretty. Then she starts bitching that can't they have prettier more delicate and elegant jewlery for body piercings? Since bod mods are so ugly.

I can't stand her, I really can't.

So much has happened. But I'll type it up one insomnia-filled night. Pixie

I don't know whether to sign this Pixie or StarGirl. By the way, StarGirl is such such such a good book. And the girl, Stargirl (well, it's not told from her point of view but it's about her) is talking about how it's okay to change your name and she's been like, Pocket Mouse and all this other stuff, because your name doesn't always fit you and when it doesn't you should get a new one. I love love love the name Astra, but it doesn't really fit me. And Star is fabulous, and I guess you could say I'm jacking it from the book but every name is taken from something. So. Now I'll sign this Star. Do you like the new layout? Something about redoing html is so calming, even if it is a bitch. Star

Tuesday, February 05, 2002

and maybe i'm so afraid. so goddamn afraid that if i tried to get you back that you wouldn't want me. that you would say that you meant all those things the first time. that you would stand there before me and make me cry, and yell at me and tell me that my tears are so unjustified. and maybe you'll pretend to forgive me and i'll smile and you'll strangle me the way you say you want to. and maybe i'll be left once again broken. every time i get broken it seems the pieces get so much more jumbled and just randomly taped and put together, as if it doesn't matter whether i'm whole or not.

i thought i was strong before

I want to say I'm sorry and run into your arms
I need to crumble before you
And let you pick up my broken pieces
Instead I stand tall

i thought that i was strong when i did that. i thought that i was strong enough without him. i thought that i was strong. now i see how weak i was. how things would have been so different if i had crumbled before him and let him pick up all my pieces, carefully placing them where they belong. but what if he didn't? what if i crumbled before him and he left me there to die? what if i crumble before you and you kick me to the ground, leaving me bleeding in a gutter. how do i know you won't? i stare at you in class with your hard-set jaw, and know that you are too strong. too strong for me to apologize to, to strong to take me back.

so i crawl onto the stage and sleep. it is my only escape.
even people who never frown eventually break down

well la de da for me. sleeping all day is fun. i forgot how nice it is to be depressed and only have to face the world for a few hours a day. actually no, it's not nice at all. i want my old self back. i liked being happy, even if i wasn't all the time. i liked having to face the world for once and feel everything. now i'm back to this state, this shitty place. it's like a motel six with stains on the cieling, that you stare at as you struggle to fall asleep. and all the time you wish you were home no matter how bad it was there.

i just finished talking to Star. i miss that guy, i haven't talked to him in forever. if i ever changed my name i would change it to star. and then i'd name my daughter astra. since star isn't his real name it wouldn't be weird. he wants to see me, i want to see him. he says he's found the perfect girl for me. her name is katie, she's 19...cute and hard working, in college, total sweetheart. butch on the inside. femme on the out. if i were allowed to leave my house i'd go hang out with them. i asked to go to the one acts and my mom said no. my dad asked what they were, and my mom was like, i already said no it doesn't matter what they are. i helped my brother do his math homework.

blah blah blah. what's the point of writing or anything? paco drove me home today and asked me if it's true i'm talking shit about fairie chick. that's funny. people aren't spreading rumors about what i'm saying, they're just saying that i'm talking shit. funny funny funny. i felt really horrible today. it felt like my cervix was punching my uterus and rubbing salt in the wounds. i was curled up in a ball for an hour before i could stand up or move.

pixie
did you ever think that maybe i need you more now than i ever have? that maybe i just need to have my hair brushed by someone who really loves me. but i'm a stubborn bitch and i can't say how i feel. i can't show it either. and maybe you hurt me so badly with your words that stung my soul that maybe i'm just too afraid to say anything to you...too afraid that you'll just say more things to hurt me? i'm too afraid to talk to you and that's why i'm the way i am

Watch Out Adrian, She'll Rape You

Quote of the day from my brother. Thanks Adrian. Well, I'm not going to get in trouble because my dad hasn't told my mom yet. And since he hasn't told her yet he can't.

In other news, I'm quite depressed. No one's talking to me besides S and Vivi. I ditched PE today with S and Nick (pretty boy...he was in my careers class last year). I've been writing in my regular journal. But I just can't write in here. This is so...distressing to watch myself like this. I get up in the morning after not being able to sleep at all, I put a top on over my pajama top, pants and flip flops. Which is why I had to ditch PE. No bra, no shoes. Bummer. I sleep in all my classes and copy what homework I can. I come home and watch TV (something I never used to do) and read books I've already read a hundred times.

I'm officially depressed. Blah. I think it's the weather. When it warms up I should be fine. I always get like this this time a year. I hold myself back from cutting too much, and I'm fine. All I've got is a dull safety pin *desperate laugh* because I threw away all my razors and I haven't even got any Schicks. Haha. I'm funny. Adios. Pixie

Monday, February 04, 2002

Worst Pad Thai Ever

This pad thai is the worst pad thai I've ever had. Considering that I've only had it at three different places it's not saying much, but I am sad. They're skimpy on the chicken and no almonds. You just can't have pad thai without almonds. Ten bucks of my money down the drain on stupid pad thai. Well, I'm happy I got it, but still...

I'm tired right now. I'll tell you all about my weekend later.

Sunday, February 03, 2002

Oooh, and I had crazy dreams, oh my gosh. I remember waking from the first thinking that it was so fucking weird, but I don't remember it. The second one I was staying in an all girl open hotel with no walls (that's The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath contributing to my dream). And...it was like...a bitch to get into my room. But the point is...anyway. So...everyone was there. I forget who...was it Brandon? Brandon was going on walks with Fairie Chick and with Nic and letting me what was going on with them (fuck, I'll tell you all about that confusion later), and Chicago was there. Except, he wasn't as cute as he is in person. Well...I was so trying to get into his pants. Like, mondoly. I guess this is what happens when you have drunken dreams - you have a drunk persona in your dreams. I can't help that I'm a horny drunk (although I can honestly say that I didn't even kiss anyone last night). So...he wasn't digging me, but one day at breakfast he's all, I heard you were going to try to rape me or something (kiddingly), and I told him I've been trying! I run around in skimpy clothes and skimpy undies, I'm always touching him and rubbing him and biting him, I don't know how to be any more hitting on him! So I told him I had given up. He winked at me and said that I shouldn't do that. (btw, as much as I dislike Britney Spears her Pepsi commercial is good, really really good). So...we go to the hotel and we're getting undressed in different rooms (I don't know why?) and he comes in my room with a towel tied around his waist and he's like, I'm not changing clothes unless I get head first. We started kissing and it was really hot when we thought we heard something. I shoved him into the closet :) This girl comes up and says she heard something...no...noo....she opens the closet and sees him there and just laughs and leaves. Whew. Well...since he's already on his back and it's a big fucking closet we start making out, and it's really really hot. Then we hear giggling. We open the door and there is this big crowd of people. Awww, fuck 'em. They say everyone's going to go out. I'm getting ready and just nothing will fit and nothing looks right and everything is dirty and it doesn't help that the closet I'm looking in isn't my closet with my real clothes, it has my dream clothes, in my dream sizes, but I don't have the dream body to go with it. Chicago leaves because he says fuck it. I finally find something to wear and go to the party.

There all these guys are hitting on me and all these guys are hitting on me, so I finally yell out *I'm Fifteen!* Finally I do and I get kicked out, because it's an 18+ party only. Fuck 'em. But Robert pulls up, my savior, and offers Chicago, Jah Love and I a ride. It was really weird because I was trying to get into Chicago's pants without making it weird, lol. Well, in the end I didn't. Grrrr. But it was a crazy fucking dream.

Oh my gosh, at the party last night there was this raver girl and she was just dancing and dancing and dancing. It was so Lily. Classic...totally classic. I just watched her forever. But, I gotta go. Pixie
I got caught sneaking out last night. As I was driving home my dad saw me. I'll give more details later. Last night I went to Roma's with Vivi and Cody apologized, then Robert and I went to a party, I got drunk and smoked some pot and managed to take care of myself quite nicely. I called my uncle and cousin to see what to do (my dad was on his way to go running and he wasn't about to not run because of me, I'm sure). We all decided that if he doesn't tell my mom then I've got a good chance of living. And if he's knowing about my brother spending the night at people's houses with boys and girls and not telling....then...who knows.

So, I snuck out my window and put a note on the door for him saying "please please please do not talk to mom about this, talk to me first. I swear as the script for American Beauty as my bible I will explain everything. Just talk to me first, please". And...when I woke up this afternoon my mom hasn't said a word. When he gets home I'm giong to be like "hey dad, want to get a movie?" and we can talk. The sooner the better of a chance I have of him not telling my mom. The thing is, it's impossible for me to get off Scott free for this. But he can't reallly punish me without my mom knowing. *sigh* But...hopefully it'll all work out.

I guess the last time my uncle talked to my dad, my dad was like "dude, how's brittany? Like...how's she doing?" Ever since last year we haven't been close. I still refuse to take responsibility about that. I lied *once* and said I wasn't cutting when I was. But...can you blame me?

Friday was really shitty and Cody made me cry. But I'll tell you all about that later. And adress my motherfucking guestbook. Pixie