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#249 - caution: random emotion alert
12/29/01 @ 8:59 pm

fuck, i'm hot. really, really fucking hot. my face is glowing. i'm fucking buck naked (ok, little white cotton panties on still), and my face is fucking on fire.

i am energetic. i hate this most passionately. why? because i want to dance about the fucking house like a damn moron playing REALLY FUCKING LOUD MUSIC, and instead my husband is in the living room watching MOTHER FUCKING SPEED. yes, he is that bored. 3 new computer games for Christmas, & he has to watch a 10 year old 2nd-rate action flick. yippie.

so did i mention i'm hyper? yep, interesting thoughts of sasha in my head, and lots of hard, fast, and/or sexy music running through my headphones, & i want to expend lots of energy in great bursts proving to the world (ok, myself) that i'm beautiful & desirable & sexy & divine. because when i dance i am all of those things. and i want to. dammit.

i hate days like these. where i am pulled in 5000 directions at one time. i want to read diaries. i have not read my diary buddies in about 2-3 weeks, not all of them, and i want to.

but i want to write. i have a new story in my head. and late last night i had a glimpse of Scott, & i read the section that i had last written, & surprised myself that i'm farther into completing that damn novel than i thought. and i'm a fucking brilliant writer, because it's the best love story of all time. at least to me. it's romantic as hell, which is why it's so hard to finish, because i have to write the unromantic broken-up parts now. ho-hum. i miss Scott sometimes. many years ago, i realized i had a problem: i was in love with the hero of my novel. oh well. i've been in love with people i can't have before, so nothing new there.

but mostly i miss myself. i think my alter-ego is tired of being the goodie-2-shoes. when i first got on anti-depressants, one of my biggest revelations about myself (to myself) was that all these contradictions i knew i had in myself could almost make up 2 different people. and for some reason i thought putting the fantasies about my dream lover behind me & being in love with my husband meant that goodie-2-shoes girl had to reign. but she didn't. and i found a happy medium and i'm in love and yay.

except, somehow, goodie-2-shoes girl has come to reign anyway. making me miss myself. because wild-girlie doesn't come out to play so much anymore. she does alot in this diary. because much of the sex stuff is from that side. the wild side. the one that wants to be thrown up against the wall in a back of a club & fucked good & hard.

i'm tired of having my regular mousey brown hair again. i'm tired of not having any driving force to my life other than survival. i'm tired of wearing fucking khakis every day to work.

i had this vision in my head that i could become the girl i really wanted to be in high school. not really goth girl, all sexied up. but goodie-2-shoes girl (with a heart of gold) in misfit-wear. y'know, cute little chunky black glasses, chopped hair, a few too many piercings to blend in, and converse on my feet.

i chopped my hair! i plan on dying it sometime this weekend. i want new maroon all-stars for my birthday. i've been listening to le tigre constantly. i don't wear glasses. :(

but i still miss me. coz i miss my words. i was in the bookstore a few days ago, and i just sighed in nostalgia at the smell for god's sake. i love books. i love the weight, the smell, the covers, the worlds filling the hundreds & hundreds of pages.

but more than that i love words. words are so beautiful. they can recall home. they can create fascination. lust. envy. love. they invent magical places. amazing people.

and i've created all that. i just have to finish something. anything. but i really want to finish the fucking novel.

so i think no catching up on my diary reading. and no kicking husband out of the room to dance. i'm gonna be word-girl for awhile. i need to reaquaint myself with Scott. i'm tired of missing me. if i can get my damn face to cool off. fuck!

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