I thought today was the day I would get my stitches out. That's what the doctor told me, but lo and behold, it is friday night and I still have stitches. I only have 4 now, but I still have little bits of thread in my chin. I am not happy. I went to the hospital this morning, okay sometime after noon when I woke up, to get my stitches out. I go through the whole rigamarole of signing in and waiting and so on. I finally see a doctor and she goes about taking about the stitches and I think I'm good to go. Then she decides that she needes the doctor who put the stitches in to see my chin now that they've come out. So he comes in an looks at my chin then goes out and she comes back in and says that it wasn't healing straight so she was going to have to reopen the wound and re-stitch it. So now I have 4 new stitches in my chin. Also she didn't put enough of the stuff to numb my chin in my chin, so I could still feel the pain everytime she did a stitch. Now I have to wait until wenesday to get these stitches out and she want me to go before my first class which is at 9:30. Arg! I am so mad and I just want to cry. I thought I was getting these stupid things out and now I have new ones, less, but they are still there. I just want them out. They make me miserable, because they itch and hurt and make it a chore to eat. I really just want to cry.

Thanksgiving

I didn't go home for Thankgiving because that would entail flying across the country for like three days, which is ridiculous, I'd spend more time on the plane and just end up being over stressed out. However, neither did my new best friends, so we hung out. Larke had a bunch on friends her and one of them has a boyfriend who lives in the city and he cooked Thai food for us. It was amazing he is such a good cook and he is Thai, so it was really Thai food. I love my friends.

The day after my birthday was fairly strange also. Besides the fact that I was totally out of it and sat through my first two classes in a complete fog, my third class became quite a to-do. My third class on mondays is my Dramatic Writing Colloquium. Which means that I write stuff and my class mates write stuff, and on the days when it is our turn we have our stuff presented. So we have to act. Well today was an acting day for me. I was in two different scenes. The first one went well. I didn't have many lines and I didn't need to express too much emotion. The second scene was harder, in that I was the main character, I had a lot of lines and I had to go through a bunch of different emotions. So after having read through the scene twice and gone through it once with the other person I was suppose to present. I'm moving the chair on stage to where I need it for thr scene when the Chair of my department walks in and says that a TV crew from China wants shots of him interacting with student. Oy vay. So I have to wait for them to fix the lights for the camera and re-arrange the audience so it looks like there are more of them. I'm just sitting there waiting, because I'm used to this kind of thing, having spent a lot of time on TV sets as a child, with my dad. However, my partner is not doing so well. She was nervous to begin with and now it our international TV debut. So I'm going to be on Chinese TV. I'm gonna be huge. Ha. Apparently it is for a TV special on the best International Universities and they didn't just pick New York University(oops. I let it slip. Oh well), they picked Tisch School for the Arts, which is a the arts academy withih NYU. Isn't that awesome? And I'm going to be on the special in face and name. Not only did they film me acting, but they shot the discussion afterwards and since the students can never remember the character's names in the scenes they always talk about the characters in regards to the actor's names. So they used my name in the discussion. I'm going to be an international superstar! People from all over China are going to flock to my apartment(actually dorm) in hopes of catching a small glimpse of me. I'll have to hire a body gaurd and people will just throw strings of pearls at me as I walk down the street to class. Maybe I'll even make enough money to get an apartment in The Village that's not student housing. Anyway, enough silly day dreaming. Its more likely that they'll be like who is that silly blond girl with the bandage on her chin? I know its my stitches, but maybe in China they'll think its a fashion statement. That's even more ridiculous. I'm going to stop. I think some of my brain fell out through the hole in my chin.

The day before Yesterday

I know its only been five days since I last posted, but so much has happened its unbelievable. First of all Sunday was my birthday. I turned 19. Yippee for me. However, 19 isn't that exciting, you don't earn any new rights. Its really not any different than other birthdays, unless you're me. Yeah.....so. I woke up to be in a friends film project, which isn't to weird. Then I was being a bum. Yes, a bum, or transiant, or vagrant or homeless, or whatever you want to call them, but I was playing one. Me. That is weird. I don't even owm jeans with holes in them. It was the most amusing thing ever. I'm sitting in a doorway outside my dorm in my friend's (male friend) torn and beat up clothing with a sign that said "will work for beer" I don't even like beer. So I was curled up on a store front just outside my dorm, looking like a bum, and a bunch of people I know kept walking by. That was fun. Then the other girl in the project throw her wallet at me. It was part of the project, but gee, I really felt homeless.
Then the best part.
I decided to take a shower. I know that doesn't sound too odd or anything, but wait. So I'm soaping up my body and everything, then suddenly I'm falling and I feel and watch myself as I fall and I'm think "humm, this is odd, I"m falling. I've never fallen in the shower before". Which is true. I never have fallen in the shower before. I fall every where else, but never in the shower. Anway, so then I hit my chin on the edge of the tub, because its a tub-shower. That hurts a lot, but mostly its my head that hurts. Really, its my brain that hurts, my whole brain. So I just sat there waiting for my brain to stop hurting. I think I bruised my whole damn brain. I guessed you'd call that a concution(how do you spell it?). So after the pain in my head fades enough to think, I was worried that my teeth were broken. So I check them and they're fine, but my jaw still really, really hurts, so maybe my jaw bone is broken. I very carefully feel up and down for any cracks or whatever, then open and close my mouth a few times. Nope, the jaw bone is fine. What a relief. I guess I'll just have a really big bruise tomorrow. So I finish rinsing off the soap quickly, because I thought I should get out of the shower in case I fall again. So as I'm standing in front of the mirror, drying off, I notice there is blood on my chin. I look at it closer and see that I am cut. I finish drying off and get a second, hand held mirror to see under my chin better. When I look into the double reflection I see that I have a really wide, really long gash across the underside of my chin. Being the calm ex-junior lifegaurd that I am, I take a closer look and decide I need stitches. So I go tape some gauze to my face and get dressed. As I'm putting on my shoes my roommate walks by and I casually mention to her "Oh, I'm going to go to the hospital. I think I need stitches." She gave me this look, like you won't believe. She was terrified and really concerned. Then I told her briefly what happened and she thought I should get the RA. What a good idea!. So I did. Anyway to make a tedious story shorter. I eventually got the RA on call and the campus transportation took us to the hospital. I had to wait a long time, but they soon stitched me up, like I thought they needed to, and I was on my way home to celebrate. I got five stitches. I've never had stitches before and I wish I had never experienced them, but what can you do? I'm suppose to go back on friday to get them out. I guess its good I'm not going home for Thanksgiving. I'm going to have 4 days to paint the city red, with my friends who aren't going home either.
So I did a lot of think about why I fell in the shower. I was trying to make it make sense. That didn't work. It will probably never make sense, but I do have a few interesing ideas. However, before I would like to say that I find my accident very funny. 19 year old girls are not suppose to fall in the shower, that's what old men do. Anyway, I'm lucky i didn't hurt myself any worse. So the logical reason I fell was that I most likely slipped on soap. Yet all the thinking I was doing lead me to another reason, not a physically reason, like the soap.
When I was small, actually for about as long as I can remember, and ever since, I have never believed that I was going to live for very long. I thought I would live to about 18 and then I would die in some tragic way. I always pictured I'd be run over by a car. Anyway, as I got older, mostly late in high school, I thought about the notion of my early death and was very distrubed that such a little girl would think like that. It's very creepy for someone so young to be so morbid. Must be why I'm a writer. Anyway, I lived through my 18th year and had basically forgotten about this morbid semi-preminition. However, when I was thinking about the fall and how much it sucked that I spent 4 hours of my birthday with someone I had never met before in a hospital getting stitches, I realized that I could have died that morning. I realized that I could have been knocked unconscious and drowned in the shower. That would have fullfilled my childhood belief. After this idea crossed my mind I was really careful for the rest of the day. I basically stayed in my room and attempted to focus on homework. I did go out to get food, but I was uber careful crossing the streets and I physically couldn't eat any hard food, so there wasn't a choking hazard. Now that I've lived through my 19th birthday I figured I'm good to live for a really long time. Nothing but my self-destructiveness is going to kill this old bird.
My day did improve that night. My friends brought me cake that they had made. It was really nice. I love them so much. Well, at least I'll remember this year's birthday. Its more than I can say about a lot of previous ones.

Water, water every where

I tried to see Avenue Q, Rent and Chicago tonight, but couldn't get tickets for. It was sad. However, Larke, Stephi, Chris and I went and saw Sideways instead. They really wanted to see it and I had only heard of it from them , so I didn't know the story at all. It was sad. That's about it. But not sad enough to make me cry. I kept waiting for it to go farther in one direction or the other and it didn't really. I was just sad. That's all. Sad.
So naturally, now I feel sad. More like, just below the surface, looking up at the sky from under water. Waiting for it to rain and flood everywhere or the water to dry up. Yet, neither happen and I can't do anything to control it. I just sit here, underwater, watching the sky, the sun and the moon glide by above me. So tomorrow I see Democracy. Larke and Stephi are really excited and yet again I don't know anything about it. Oh well. It's something to do to pass the time, while all this water sits above me and decides what to do about itself.

In French

I feel like ranting in french today, so I will, but without accents.

Mon Deiu! Aujour'd hui etais horrible. Premierement je suis a un appointment avec une femme dans the writing center, pour aidez moi en un essais. Mais, elle etais un Bitch. (this is not the time to rant in french. I have to do this is english). So first of all she doesn't have any people skills. After reading my essay she straight out said that it sucked and that my teacher was generous in giving me the grade he did and most likely gave it to me because he wants to keep a good relationship with me. What is that suppose to mean anyway? I'm a student he's suppose to grade on me work effort and skill and not in the bedroom. Not to say that I'm sleeping with my teacher. He's gay so it wouldn't help. I did think about it though, but I'm not doing that badly. Then she totally went off on a tangent about the female condition and our sexualization by men or something and I have no idea where she got that. She is psycho. Anyway, then she kept proding me about why me "moment of fascination" had to do with this sexualized child or something odd like that. What does she think I'm going to tell her. I was not going to open up about something so pivotal or tramatic in my life that caused this view of the world (a view which she superimposed into the essay). I don't even have a full time therapist or best friend that who I talk about "pivotal" stuff with, why would I discuss it with a bitter old maid who is stuck teaching freshman to write while getting her Phd or something, and she's not even good at teaching. ARG. So that aside. I don't think I am going to rewrite this essay after all. It is entitled the "Personal Essay" and I don't do personal well, with friends, let alone with strangers, and in the context of an essay that lots of people might read? God no. I discuss personal stuff as fiction, so I can pretend that I dreamed it up or created it from something else. I'm a fiction writing that's what I do. I write fiction, but this is really. Just for verification. This is my personal journal that happens to be online and viewable to the world.

Okay. So what is this about the sexualization of young girls? Um....I don't know. I saw a painting and the subject at first looked really young and sweet and innocent, but after staring at it for an hour, as per the asssignment, she started to look older. I think the teacher wanted it to relate to something in my life, but I wasn't going to pour out my life story to her. Its none of her fucking business. However, I did think of some preposterous ways in which it could relate to my life, but they make me out as some sad sob story or a poor little white girl or whatever. Which I'm not, I've had some struggles, but I'm pretty well off and all, so it fine.
The first related story being my relationship with my father. We have a very good relationship, don't get me wrong, but I didn't know him much at all as a young girl. My earlist memories of my father are either him at the hospital when my sister was born or him lying in bed with the flu or a migraine, with the curtains pulled shut. The memory in the hospital is very faint. I actually remember the chocolate chip cookie that I was eating more accurately than my dad. We walked down a hall and he went in a door to see my mom and my sister (wasn't quite sure about that at the time, but that's another story), and a nurse came and gave my a cookie. I really remember the chocolate and being very excited by it. My dad I remember as the hand I held as I was led down tha hall. When he was sick, I remember having to be very quiet, so as not to distrub him. I also remember wanting to get sick myself so I could lie in bed with daddy, because I never spend much time with him otherwise. He would wake up and leave before I woke up for school and come home after I went to bed and the weekends where spent, um....I actually don't remember. Anyway, he wasn't having an affair or fighting with my mom or anything. He was genuinely working and we could see proof of that every week on TV. He worked on a very popular 90's TV series and if I were to mention it you would be like "OMG, he worked on -----" and then ask a million questions about it and I would be annoyed. So, I will not say what show it was and I will not answer any questions about it. After the show ended and my dad was essentially out of work, we became close. Which is nice because my its like I really have two parents. I'm actually not sure how my relationship with my father has anything to do with the sexualization of young girls, but I'm sure the crack-pot Freud would have something to say about that.
Secondly, my relationship with my mom. I guess Freud would say something about that too. I love my mom because she was always there during my childhood. However, one summer things changed and I had to grow up really fast and I think I have been struggling to return to being a child and a teenager ever since. Now that I'm in college I can just be an adult, no one is telling me to act my age, whatever age that might be. Anyway, I've spilled a lot out on everyone tonight so I'll stop and talk about that summer some other time. Its way too much for tonight and especially after what I was talking about before. I've been kind of heavy recently, so maybe I'll be funny soon.

So I saw the counselor in residence just now. I literally just got back. She is really nice. However, I think that if I start seeing a counselor I'm going to need to find a private therapist who I can meet with once a week or so, but that might be expensive. Anyway, I feel it might help. Help me deal with whatever issues have caused my problems and so on. I just don't feel that a short term counselor will be beneficial to be, becuase I'm so used to be veiled in my discussions of my emotional being with strangers. I found it really odd to casually be talking about me depression with someone I just met. I think it would be helpfeul to see a counselor, but a long term relationship would need to be established. The biggest problem with that would be my
bi-coastal-ness. Winters on the east, summers on the west. That seems counter intuitive. Anyway, the bi-coastal thing is an issue because I'm not sure which coast to find the therapist for. I think it would make more sense having the therapist here on the east coast, but what will I do during summer break? One complication after another. Well, that's the latest update from the farm (okay the city, but the expression is farm) until next time...keep on truckin'.

Rant

I'm going to go on a little rant about my life now. But isn't that the point of a blog? Being able to rant about yourself. So anyway.....

The most annoying thing ever is when I really feel the need to post and get my feeling and emotions out of my own head, my internet is down and I can't get into my blog. It sucks like a vacuum. Honestly, I find about 2 in the morning when I need to post the most (hehe I rhyme). That's the hour when I'm so tired I start driving myself crazy and pushing myself over the edge and posting is a way to clear all that up, so I can move on and finish writing whatever dumb paper my last teacher assigned at the last minute.

Speaking of pushing myself over the egde. I've come to the solid conclusion that I'm manic depressive and the realization has brought a sort of peace to my life. Well that and other things. I'm going to see a school counselor tonight of my own accord. Almost like a test, to see if I want to find a personal therapist who I will have to pay for. So I'll try to let you know how that goes.

So this weekend, or rather Monday, was a nightmare ( a female horse at night? I don't understand the evolution of that word). Anyway, I have these little breakdowns sometimes and I've have two big breakdowns before, but not recently and I've been recovering. Anyway, often I can feel them a few days a head of time. I know that sounds odd, but I just feel them, like all my emotions were filling me up and trying to find a way out of my head and heart (that sounds cheesy, but accurate). Writing sometimes isn't enough to express everything I feel, so I have these little breakdowns. I think this one was different in that I realized that I was going to have one and realized the necessity of it, and that afterwards I would feel better. Which I do. I think I pushed myself into this breakdown, just to get it over with and more into the calm state that follows the storm. I also talked it through with a lot of different people, during and after, so that was really different. I believe it really helped and that's why I'm going to see the counselor.

So I'll tell what actually happened, not just my refelctions on it. It might sound really trivial, but when its internalized and you're actually the one feeling it, it seems like the biggest thing ever and you can't move around it. I think that's why coming to the conclusion that I'm manic depressive is so important, because it helps me realize that its not just me. There are other people and either genetic or hormonal factors. So anyway, the events.

I had a gossip session with Larke and Ellen, while Stephi was away for the weekend at a Bar Mitzva. I also saw "Finding Neverland" its amazing go see it. Anyway, so we talked about like everyone in the dramatic writing department and all the "scandels" that were going on. I also learned that my little intrigue with Chris, wasn't such a secret and everyone was talking about it. Oh, well. Better that I know now. So I was talking with Chris on AIM and telling him what a good writer he is and such, but also saying how crazy he is driving me, because I can't read him at all, nothing, not a bit and that I'm usually pretty good at reading people. Then he thought my irriatation had to do with the fact that we've had sex and then I was upset, because it doesn't. Anyway, so the conversation stopped, then restarted an hour or so later with me asking about his ex girlfriend who he still has a picture of on his desk, even though he broke up with her and they live in different states. I think deep down he's scared of the city and is really a small town boy. Having grown up in the only other big city in America that matters, this one doesn't phase me at all. In fact I'm more comfortable here then the other one. Well, to the point. I keep asking about her and how he felt about her and all that stuff that drives girlfriends nuts if their boyfriends are talking about ex's. Not that Chris and I are by any mean "together". Oh god, no! So all in all, to make a tedious story short, I asked if you loved her, than amended that and asked if he loves her. He said yes. Then I ranted about being careful with that emotion and how you can get hurt. Then he said he doesn't want to be lectured and that I'm not the only person who has ever been hurt and so on... I stopped talking to him and just lay in my bed for about an hour, then got up and went into my closet with my scissors and started cutting my wrist. I've tried it before as a way to commit suicide, but that's a bad way to go. Don't try it. I did it because I just wanted to feel something. I had been lying in my bed and I didn't feel anything, nothing at all. I only know that I was in bed for an hour, because I happened to notice the clock before and after, but I don't remember time passing or anything. I just felt nothingness and existed in nothingness. So I cut my wrist in order to feel. It worked. Then I went and saw Chris, because he just lives down stairs and we apolegized to each other and are fine now. I think, well we are on my end. So, I've been feeling since I cut my wrist, because the little cuts hurt a lot and I can't wear my watch and I have to wear long sleeves in front of people and then they rub on the cuts and hurt. So the moral, don't cut your wrist, actually don't cut yourself in general, it hurts for longer then you want. Go find someone to talk to. It really helps. I promise.

When I returned to a calm state - I've actually been using the word "placid" to describe it - I was AIMing Chris and retelling a ubermini version of my experience and he said something that really stuck in my mind. He said "you have your own little tragedies, dont you". Exactly like that. The best response I could come up with was "i wouldn't call them tragedies. that's so melodramatic". What kind of a response it that? Anyway, I've said a lot today, I'll let you digest that for a while. I need to sleep.

The one good thing about being manic depressive is that when I'm insanely happy I do lots of living and fun stuff and when I'm suicidal depressed I can write about it. So essentially I would be an even worse writer than I am already if I was psychotic. Well, that's a pleasant thought. They do say that most artistic genius' were insane because of one thing or another. Hum...let's make a list:
1) Virginia Woolf 9) Faulkner 17) Jackson Pollock 25) T.S. Elliot
2) Silvia Plath 10) Keasts 18) William Blake 26) George Bernard Shaw
3) Picasso 11) Tony Kushner 19) Allen Ginsberg
4) Van Gogh 12) Poe 20) Theodore Roethke
5) Beethoven 13) Lord Byron 21) John Berryman
6) Checkov 14) Robert Schumann 22) Robin Williams
7) Fitzgerald 15) George Gordon 23) Patty Duke
8) Kafka 16) Joseph Conrad 24) Georgia O'Keefe

Need I go on?
Hopefully one day I too can be on this list, not because I'm proud that I have a mental illness, but because I hope to be a successful writer and most of the people on this list are quite famous and if you haven't heard of at least half of them you must have lived in a box your whole life. Not to insult people you actually live in boxes because they can't afford a home, I mean metaphorically lived in a box. You must live in an isolated universe.

What's the point? Why am I here trying to be a writer? I can't write. Who am I kiddidng? I'm a bad hack that doesn't even know what to steal. I'm here because I don't have anyone to marry. I messed that up when I couldn't repress my anger anymore. Fucking depression. Now my ex-finance has some live in girl friend, finally graduated and is probably happy (good for him) and I'm on the other side of the country in the freezing cold busting my emotions trying to be a "good writer" or at least decent. Why am I trying to be a man, or some women that can conquer the world, because I can't. I was raised to get married and have two and a half children. Why am I trying to conquer the world? I should move to some nice little mid-west town and marry and nice little mid-west boy who has a job that will let us live decently and raise nice little mid-west children. I must be a fucking psycho to have thought I could ever do this in the first place. Maybe I could just kill myself. That would be a solution. I don't care what the psychologists say, I believe that suicide is prefectly natural.

Essay

...and the eleventh plague was from god upon college students and it was essays and they suck.

yes I know I messed up the tenses and the language, but that's what makes it funny. Anyway, I'm finally on the fifth draft of this stupid essay and I finally decide what I'm writing about. So O throw out all of my previous supporting extra texts, which were Tolkien and Da Vinci andinstead talk about Angelou, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, "Big Fish", "Scooby Doo" and Pamela Anderson's boobs. How's that for different. Anyway, the essay was stressing me out a lot. In fact it's still stressing me out, but I've accepted it. That's all. Thanks.

Ya know the time when I post these things is never right. What's with that?

Name Dropping

Mondays are hard. Not because my boyfriend always has a hard-on on mondays. Actually that was a lie. I don't have a boyfriend and neither do I want one. I just thought it might be amusing, but now I've realized it really isn't very funny. So yesterday I saw the movie "After the Sunset" or something to that effect. Anyway, I saw it free because the director-Brett Ratner-graduated from my school (university). He also came to speak with the audience afterwards. I actually found him very repulsive. I don't want him to direct my screen plays. Then Woody Harrelson walks into the theater with David Blaine (no this is not the set up to a bad joke). Woody Harrelson is in the movie and he spoke with us for a while also, which was way cooler then that chauvanistic director. Why David Blaine was there I could not say, he must hang out with Woody Harrelson, maybe they smoke the maui wowie together, anyway he was being anonymus and he didn't look to good. He had gained weight and needed a shave. I guess starving yourself in a box will do that to you.
So, to get to the title of the blog. Not only am I dropping names, but the director was too. He wasn't just dropping them. It was more like rain hitting the whole audience in the face every 30 seconds. OMG. I have never seen, well I guess heard, anyone drop names like this man.

Money

Like any good college student, I don't have any money. I don't have any money because I don't have a job here or any source of income for that matter and I don't live with my parents anymore so my expenses have rinsen. Sounds like the national economy, but that's beside the point. Anyway, my search for a work-study job failed and I dislike having to ask my parents to put money in my account because they don't really have money either, but nessesity forces me to. So, when I was attempting to buy a pair of boots yesterday, so my feet won't be wet, I over heard a father talking with his young daughter about how they needed a new babysitter. I thought, how cute, that little girl is very in tune with life. Then I thought I used to babysit. Then it hit me this is oppurtunity, not just knocking, but ringing the door bell and shouting my name. So I introduced myself, told the father that I overheard them and that I babysit. I gave him my phone number and he actually called requesting references. It is so exciting, I might actually have money coming in, not just going out. I really hope this works out. It would be prefect. So wish me luck. Thanks.

home?

I just got pictures from home and its really strange looking at them sliming at you, but knowing that we live in completely different worlds now. Going home is going to be very awkward, I can feel it. My mom will probably clean the whole house, and wash my sheets, like I'm a guest. If its too odd I don't think I'll go home next year. I'm just realizing the place I called home for over 18 years isn't home anymore and the people I called family seem like strangers. I haven't started calling my dorm here home yet, so maybe seeing that the place I still kind of saw as home isn't home, made me wonder if I really have a home or if I will ever have a home again. Oh well, I'm not old enough to be contemplating the notion of home.

Fridays are Fun

Fridays are always fun. Even though I have a 9:30 class, but I really don't mind it at all. I also have a 12:30 class, which I like a lot and don't have to do much work for. Just reading, when I choose to. So today we watched the movie version of "'night, Mother" written by Marsha Anne Norman, starring Sissy Spacek and (some other women whose name I forget). Anyway, its about suicide. The daughter shoots herself in the end and the whole story is about her explaining everything about how to run the house and why she is killing herself. So after the movie the class gets into a discussion about the Spacek's character and the believablity of her suicide. I personally, as someone who is only alive becuase her parents don't own a gun, thought the character was completely believable. Infact, I thought it was the best portrayal of a suicidal female every. The author completely knew what was going through her head and how to make a character explain it. Then a bunch of people in class just totally attacked the character and said they didn't understand her motivations and that she was selfish. I really wanted to smack them, because what the character said and how she said it was exactly how I felt during my numerous suicide attempts. I was just never able to articulate them. I feel that inorder to understand me better, you have to watch this move or see the play. Anyway, have a great day.

Bring Her Back!

Well, there are two good things that came out of the last few days. My friend got her nose pierced and I found out I'm not pregnant without having to take a test. Thank goodness, I was really fucking scared.
Anyway, now is a time when we need to revive America, for she has died and only the people can give her mouth-to-mouth. We need to stand up and take action. We need to tell the rest of the world that our president does not represent our views. We need to become one people united to bringing back what America stands for: The Right to Individual Freedom. That's what has always made America a wonderful place. Our founders gave their lives for Individual Freedom and while I could personally flee to Canada (as I am a citizen) I will not. This is my home and I want her to be a place that I believe and can feel proud to call home. I don't want to be scared to tell the world that I am an American

America is Dead

America is Dead.
Have you cried for your country today?
New York City is silent.
Los Angeles is silent.
America is Dead.
The rest of the world laughs.
America is Dead.

To express your mourning please wear a black ribbon.
Thank you.

I have fought my whole life to be taken seriously. I thought I was almost reaching my goal, then my home state at the time, California, elects a bodybuilder turned actor and previous Mr. Universe to be Governer and the rest of the country laughs at us. Then when I escape that the country re-assigns Bush to the Presidency and the world luaghs at us. I will never be taken seriously now, ever.

All Hallow's Eve was amazing. I saw a the American Ballet Theater perform and they were amazing. I watch the Villiage Halloween Parade with my friends and it was fun. Then we watched the original version of The Shining. I don't think I understood it very much. Oh well. Over all I had a good time. As I was saying before life is college is like a dream and I love every minute of it. Nothing is bad. In a sense I have escaped all the depression of my past, but maybe I'm just in a manic phase. Whatever, I'm happy. That's what counts.
However, the one nightmare that has crossed my path is still, as of now, unresolved. I'm still waiting. My floor is actually in the course of an impromtu abortion debate and most people are avoiding that room right now, especially me. I don't want to talk about it, because I'll feel obligated to mention my present situation and my personal fears, which I'm not ready to do with people I'm not completely close to and oppose my beliefs. I'm pro-choice. There are only two people pro-life, and they're nice, but I want to avoid the issue. Anyway.
So speaking of hot issues, the election. GO VOTE. Voting is very important. So go do it. More importantly GO VOTE FOR KERRY. Yes, I am a liberal and I'm proud of it. I also don't want to hear any crap from non-liberals, so don't waste your breath. Have a nice election day.