diana (me) -- this website's owner/operator; 15/f


patsy -- poet and dreamer; 16/f


meredith -- humorist and saint; 16/f


him -- hunter and listener; 16/m


'fred' -- counselor and taxi; 17/m




23:45;   Pink. I'm destined to dye my hair this color before the end of summer. My hair has to be a "normal" color by the time I go back to school. (It's a new policy -- I mean, I go to an art school and they tell me I have to have normal color hair. Makes me sick thinking about it.) Maybe an Angelina-Jolie-Playing-By-Heart kind of pink. Don't really know yet. Don't know if I even can, but I don't see why I couldn't. My parents had no problem with the orange streaks, so why would a headfull of pink bug them?
But, anyway, I did a cartoon character this evening. Really, really tacky looking. It's only a rough draft, which was upon request by a reader, but I'll try to scan it tomorrow. I'll post some of my real artwork by the end of this week, if not sooner. It'll be hell to scan in portions, then put together, but whatever it takes. I have too much spare time, anyway.

13:45;   Here's a present, boys and girls. A picture of yours truly, which was taken probably half a year ago. (She was originally in the photo, but since She's out of town, I couldn't get Her permission to put Her half of it in there, so I took it out.)
I was reading through a "blog" known as KitschBitch and saw a link to a nifty little idea called BlogStreet Boys. The female equivalent idea was brought up by Fred Solinger, and the idea is somewhat being considered, but the mastermind behind the BlogStreet Boys thinks that "the ones that I don't include will feel slighted and think I'm a bastard for not thinking they're cute," which isn't entirely true to begin with. I mean, I know that I wouldn't even be considered (since my "blog" is so small and unknown to begin with.) and I didn't care either way if I was chosen as one of the people or not. I mean, it's just a small nifty idea.


16:57;   Wake up and see the places
it's all you got and all you take
You don't have to fall to pieces
you have to prove it
Make up your pretty face it's a lovely trip
a lovely place
You got one life here to make it
for the movies

- Buckcherry, "For the Movies" (Full Lyrics)

10:34;   Thanks for making waking up worthwhile.
Actually, I was awoken by everything in the house. It was 7:45 and everyone in the freaking house was up except for me. My mother was home, asleep and heavily-drugged. She opened her eyes for a moment to see who it was that was watching her, mumbled a "hello" (she had tubes down her throat during surgery, and thus the aftermath is it being sore), then dozed off into a heavily-breathing frenzy. My dad's downstairs, caring for her every whim. Which is what he's supposed to be doing, right? Caring for his spouse of sixteen wonderous years.
My mother is a piece of walking plastic, to say the least. The reason she's having this tummy-tuck is because of a lyposuction that occurred a few years back (no skin was removed, thus her belly-button was invisible for a few years) which occurred at the same time as the breast implants. The nose job happened after I was born. I don't know why she does this all. Maybe I could understand a few of the surgeries, but I saw her wedding photos. If you look at her back then-- with her smaller chest, small hips (no children yet), and crooked nose-- she was beautiful. She's a different type of beautiful now. Not entire a "flakey, fake" beautiful, but just a paid-for beautiful that shouldn't have existed in the first place. Then again, if we never left Pennsylvania then my mother would've been the person she hated, inside and out. Maybe plastic surgery has changed her life. But it's weird being the only person I know who's mother has implants.


18:03;   Surgery's over. Happy birthday, mother.
She's actually in good condition. Everything is going good for her. She's off of work tomorrow (obviously) and all of next week. I go to the dentist tomorrow, just so he can poke at my recently-surfacing cavity and how I haven't been wearing my retainer. Oh well. I'll bring earphones to cover up his moaning.
Patsy gave me a card today in the mail. Very awesome, very original. She made it herself. While I was scanning that, I also threw in my Barnes and Noble handwriting that I said I would do a few days ago. (It's lyrics from Green Day's "Brain Stew", if you haven't guessed already.) I also went out on errands with my grandmother today. During the day, we stopped at this small cafe, Cafe Toni. Excellent food. The best I've had eating out in awhile. We went there because a piece of my artwork, titled "Romantic" (Ebony pencil), was there and -- so I hear -- getting raves. There was this guy there that talked about the crash. He knew the people that were killed. (Update on the whole situation: the driver of the car that had the dead passenger was pronounced dead at the hospital. They were not responsible for the accident in the first place. According to police, a lady escaped from police -- as I wrote -- but rammed the couple into traffic, thus killing them. The couple was not wearing seatbelts.) We bought my mother flowers and I got some raspberries to munch on. It was an okay day, I guess. I still can't wait for her to leave, though.

11:02;   Today's the day of the surgery. My mother will be unconcious for five hours as they take out the fat and excess skin from her lower stomach, off her hips, and from her upper legs. I personally think she's a beautiful person naturally, but it's her body. I can't argue. She's staying overnight at the place she's doing it at with a few nurses just so she doesn't have to move around a lot.
My mom's side of the family is so weird compared to my dad's side of the family. My mom's side of the family (she has 4 sisters, 1 brother) is really controversial amongst everyone else, and has a bitter line that goes through it. It's like they are all on teams with each other: my mom and her oldest sister, Debbie, are on one side. Everyone else is on the other. Probably because my mom and Debbie aren't afraid to start fights with my grandmother. Whenever someone of my mom's side visits us (ie, my grandmother or some of my younger, spoiled cousins), everything in the house is tense. You can tell it's bitter and frightening in the household, and you just want to get out. Or talk to someone. That's kind of what happened last night.
I had no one to talk to because it was around 10:30 at night, and my Internet connection wasn't working. (I wrote my short message via His AOL account.) My mother was egging me on to things (It was probably an effect from all the pre-pain relievers that she took last night, and the fact that she couldn't eat any food 24 hours before surgery.) and I couldn't handle it, so I eventually closed myself into my room and cried. I'm not entirely bitter now, but I'm not the happiest of moods, either. I just kind of hope that Monday (When she leaves-- yeah, it's a day off from what I originally said) comes by quickly, and that my mother is OK.
In other news, She and I are debating whether or not to get a domain name for ourselves because her site on Angelfire isn't working right (something about images), and these popups at Tripod are really bothering me. At Network Solutions (I think), it's around $99 for three "pages" (I think they mean "subdirectories", but She's checking that out.), which is just what we need. One subdirectory would be mine, one would be her's, and one would be "images". Or a project, or something. I don't know yet. I'll keep you updated.


22:22;   I feel numb. I can't speak. I'll explain things tomorrow.


12:22;   I'm going on a binge. I have $26 I have to burn, so I'm going out to WalMart to get a few things. One being a birthday card for my mother. (I can't really get her a gift, because I don't know what she wants. Plus, she's having un-needed surgery on her birthday, so just something for her to read while she's moaning from the aftermath would be fun.) Another might be a Tori Amos CD or something. I also need to pay for my lunch, and being on the tight budget I am... and, plus, I have to save a few bucks to go over and rent Airborne, just to satisfy my Seth Green urges.
Whenever I get time to write (tomorrow, most likely), I'll tell you about my purchases. I know you can't wait.

11:23;   Collision leaves one dead [local newspaper]
A four-car collision on U.S. 80 left one man dead Monday night.
County police say it began when an officer spotted someone driving erratically-- swerving off and on the road--- on Johnny Mercer Blvd near Bryanwood Road around 9:30 pm. The officer pulled the car over on Bryanwood Road, just south of its intersection with U.S. 80.
But the driver of the car took off after the officer got out of his patrol car to question her. She sped through the red light and into the intersection, where she collided with three other cars.
Auto parts were scattered over the highway as paramedics removed at least four victims from the cars and rushed them to the Memorial Health University Medical Center. The driver of the car that caused the wreck sustained serious injuries, and her passenger, a male, was pronounced dead at the scene.
No additional information about the wreck was available Monday night.

And to think that this all happened under about 1,000 yards away from me.


23:03;   Everyone do me a favor and visit a page I helped create, called Celebrities in Hats.
As for my excuse not to "blog" today... I'm tired. You're tired. So I didn't feel like it. Fin. (No, I'm not angry. I'm just lacking words at the moment.)


22:33;   I went to Barnes and Noble today, and I tried out this pen while waiting for my mom to buy my Billboard magazine. It was a blue pen with a dolphin on top. I'll scan the Post-It sometime tomorrow, if I can. Until then, everyone can enjoy my handwriting (and first name, for once) at 50cups.com. Yeah. (Except, I wrote in print at B&N.)

15:58;   Thom Yorke [of Radiohead], talking about the cartoon character in the video for "Paranoid Android", named Robin:
"Robin is great. He is so much more then that kid who showers with the cap on. In him I see the totally innocence. Defiance his bad habits and the tuff, big city he lives in, he is soft and gentle. And what ever happens he never loses his temper. Nothing affects him. He gets bossed and makes stupid things. People convince him to swallow things and dance naked. Next morning he wakes up anyway and feels rather okay and has forgotten last night. I wish I could be like that. Just forget. Never really bother. It never works in the real world. When we record can I live like that. Just get drunk till I forget. And when I get to the real world, there is nuclear weapon, unhappy love, people who don't recycle their cans. Everything that can't leave me alone, and things that always are going to disturb me."

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