Some of you may have noticed that in the past I have tended to read too much into the actions of others, progressing to a thorough examination of my own ulterior motives every time I do ANYTHING. This obsession usually yields nothing of import.


But is it wrong to think that I've been messed up more than I thought when, while watching "The Last King of Scotland," during the scene where the guy is brutally run over by a car I start laughing uncontrollably for thirty seconds then run to the bathroom to vomit?







I can't decide whether I want to listen to dance music to combat the mood, or emo/metal to feed it...

I'm sorry that I signed off without warning, Andrea, but I was trying not to ruin Hector with my bile and half-digested prosciutto.








It's a bitch convincing people to like you
If I stop now call me a quitter
If lies were cats you'd be a litter
Pleasing everyone isn't like you
Dancing jigs until I'm crippled
Slug ten drinks I won't get pickled

I've got to hand it to you
You've played by all the same rules
It takes the truth to fool me
And now you've made me angry

It's not easy having yourself a good time
Greasing up those bets and betters
Watching out they don't four-letter
Fuck and kiss you both at the same time
Smells-like something I've forgotten
Curled up died and now it's rotten

I'm not a gangster tonight
Don't want to be a bad guy
I'm just a loner baby
And now you're gotten in my way

Oh I could throw you in the lake
Or feed you poisoned birthday cake
I wont deny I'm gonna miss you when you're gone
Oh I could bury you alive
But you might crawl out with a knife
And kill me when I'm sleeping
That's why

I can't decide
Whether you should live or die
Oh, you'll probably go to heaven
Please don't hang your head and cry
No wonder why
My heart feels dead inside
It's cold and hard and petrified
Lock the doors and close the blinds
We're going for a ride

I'm definitely getting sick, and it's progressing just the way it did with my little brother. My throat has been sore for months, but I thought it was just dry air... turns out Tom had a minor cough for months before he started to get really sick.

Now I feel like my head is gradually filling with snot and mucus and I don't like it.

Tom's getting better, but they gave him drugs... I can't get any because I'm poor.

But I will have a compy of my very own when I finally go home after this horrendously boring spring break.

That makes life worth living.

































Almost.

So my brother goes to the hospital yesterday evening to get some tests done. His legs hurt, which we are pretty sure is just because he's been lying on the couch for going on a week while he was sick, but he needs more anti-biotics so they ask the doctor about it. They check his muscle reaction, and it's bad, so they run a few tests to check for auto-immune disorders, because there is a family history of Gillian Beret syndrome (the brother I don't like had it) and Lupus (Great Grandma).

They do the three standard blood tests that can indicate problems. First two, check check, all normal. The third test was off by so much that they re-did it four times to make sure it wasn't an equipment malfunction.

They did a biopsy of the calf muscle. My little brother took it like a man, though. The kid normally cries for an hour if he bumps his head, but he gets four vials of blood taken and a huge needle stuck in his leg without flinching.

Turns out it's just a really nasty virus that decided to settle into his leg instead of his lungs or whatever.

Problem is, it's contagious, and I've been feeling kind of crappy the past couple days. Can't wait to take this home with me and infect the Triple V.

Isn't it wonderful that I can't go to the doctor's office because I no longer have insurance?

So my brother comes home from school today (the one I don't like) and he says: "some girl got shot at Dow High today."


Yeah right.


I hit him for spreading such joyous lies into my funk of sleeping late and feeling crappy.



He was serious. It was in the news and everything.




The girl is seventeen, the guy who shot her was twenty-one. Note the tenses that I used. She survived the four gunshots, but he killed himself.




Wow. Midland is even more fucked up than I thought.



On that happy note, a downer: I filed my taxes today. I am now officially a grown-up in the eyes of the government.


Thomas has been real sick the past few days, and I think that I'm catching it. This is not cool. Why didn't I stow away in someone's luggage?

I guess when I said and now i can die happy God took it literally...


So the guy, Ian, that I'd been messaging back and forth for a while is coming up to Mt. Pleasant on the 24th. He's spending the night in the area. We have a date for "coffee."



On the tails of this great news, I suddenly feel like someone is drilling into my brains while punching me rhythmically in the guts. I'm sorry Andrea, but I'm taking about an entire bottle of aspirin and going to pass out.

my day started off going so well. Up at 8 after 12 hours of sleep. Breakfast, swimming with Amanda, lunch, class, and then the news that hit me like a brick to the face:


Anna Nicole Smith is dead.


I don't know what to do with myself.