He and I went to the beach tonight. We watched the sunset and I wrote my name in the sand. Nothing major, just walked up and down the sand, getting my jeans and shoes wet. I needed the fresh, salty air going through my body again. It's been so long since I've done anything like that.
In other news, I am on top. Kind of made me smile that I'm accomplishing things. As of this moment, there have been 111 hits today alone. Most were probably by me, in order to try to get Blogger working for me this morning.
I'm secluding myself from lots of people. I don't feel too chipper around my grandmother anymore, because she is a very demanding person to begin with. I cannot stand people who do not use "please" or "thank you" or anything proper, even if I sometimes slip up on it myself. It kind of also hurts knowing that I have a very tight circle of (real) friends that I can escape over to and feel comfortable being there. It's a complex situation.
See, I don't even say much around my parents. And that caused a conflict between me and them last night around 12 or 1 am. They were talking about Him and how he was, in short, lame. Which I admit is partially true at points. But still... and, anyway, I got angry at them about it, and my mother later on appologized about it because she "didn't know" that I would be offended because I keep my opinions and feelings "bottled up" inside of me. It's just so weird having a third parent walking around me and watching my every mood.
My grandmother leaves on 4 July. That's approximately ten days away.
I did what I said that I would try to do. I went to the mall and bought a Tori Amos CD. Imported, three songs. $11. I have this bad habit of buying things that are way too expensive. "Glory of the 80s", "Baker Baker" (Live), and "Winter" (Live). The cover of the single is beautiful, though. It's the one where she's wearing the boa and everything has a purple tint to it. Anyway, besides that, I got a Nylon magazine. Patsy also let me borrow Call the Doctor (Sleater-Kinney) and one blank tape and one mixed tape.
Visitor number one has arrived. It is my mother's mother, which everyone promptly calls Grammy or G. She's an okay person, but very grandmother-ish. Always hanging over shoulders and such. My older brother - visitor number two - is expected to finally park his snazzy little car in the driveway around midnight. It's very him to do that. He's staying the weekend, then going back to his little job in North Carolina.
My eyes feel like they're gonna bleed
Dried up and bulging out my skull
My mouth is dry
My face is numb
Fucked up and spun out in my room
On my own... here we go
- Green Day, "Brain Stew" (Full Lyrics)
I have been linked. There was much rejoice upon my behalf.
I doubt that I'll "blog" tomorrow. I have an incredibly huge urge to buy a Tori Amos CD after hearing "Winter". So I might do that, and hang around some of my dear friends. I'm also getting visitors tomorrow, so I'll see how that ties in with it all.
Ever since I was a little playground-roaming girl, I've always been quiet and patient and a good listener to everyone's problems. Still am, I guess. (Maybe minus the "quiet" and "patient", but it depends on the situation and the person.) Two nights ago, I was talking to Him on the phone, then suddenly broke down, screaming "Nobody cares what happens to the listener!" Everyone has problems, and they come to me to rant, to ask for help, to just question themselves and have me sit there and stare back. It's not that I have a problem with this all -- but I have problems, too. School, friends, schedules, family, etc. And it seems that sometimes my current thoughts are being drowned out by someone else's, and then the next thing I know I'm sitting there staring out the windows crying my eyes out.
I don't know where I'm leading with this one. I don't know if it was bad for me to listen in the beginning, or to sit there and absorb everyone's suicidal thoughts, long-adored crushes, or anger. Maybe I wish that I didn't put so much pressure on myself to make everything be right.
I may be the next Napster fanatic. I downloaded it last night around midnight, and have since brought songs into my life ranging from Faithless' "Don't Leave" to Marilyn Manson's version of "Sweet Dreams" to N Sync's "It's Gonna Be Me". I started with 8 MP3s (Picked up here and there) and after less then twenty-four hours have grown to a collection of 18. That's 10 in this time setting. Meaning by tomorrow at this time it could be around 30 or 35 songs. That's a sad thing to admit.
Her - The plural of doofus is doofusi.
Me - Oh, really?
Her - [silence]
Me - Why not just doofi?
Her - I made that up.
Me - No offense, but doofi sounds better than doofusi.
Her - But I like doofusi. Sounds scientific.
Me - Sounds like fungi.
Her - Yeah, and that's scientific, right?
Me - Maybe.
If you live near New Carrollton, Maryland, take a visit over to Harry Finley's basement museum. If you don't have access, then go look at the online museum.
The sky was this beautiful color earlier-- I don't know how to really describe it. Like a deep blue-purple color that kind of sucked you in. I stood in the middle of my road watching this indigo cloud come towards me. Lightning was in the distance, but it wasn't raining. No wind. It was just one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. I just wish that I could've photographed it or something...
Dad, I love you.
Happy father's day, everybody.
[to your left: my father holding a newborn me.]