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[Jul. 22nd, 2005|07:21 pm] |
I'm so proud of myself - I stayed at the gym for two hours! Did the usual hour on the treadmill, then did some abb work, then back on the treadmill. Going to do the same tomorrow and hopefully burn off the chinese I ate last night. I also think I am not going to take this Sunday off. Got a goal here and a time limit and taking days off wont help me. Plus its not like I have anything else to do. Not like I have a boyfriend who is actually around or anything.
Lets not talk about that though. I'll just end up thinking too much and get frustrated with myself.
I want to draw. Not with pencil or pen, because I am so sick of that, but with pastel. I love pastels. And I stole a great set from school (shhhh) and I want to use it again. Problem is I can't find that god damned folder!! To get paper decent enough to use pastel on I would have to go to an art store. And Dick Blick's closed down, so I don't know where there would be an art store around here. Not to mention the problem of money. Problem being I have none. Applied to Borders, but I am giving them some time to look over the application (it was online). Probably going to call them on Monday. Problem is I told them I could start right away. But we may be going to Branson at the end of August, so there would be no point to me starting to work cuz I would be there for a month before going out of town. I dont know. We don't even know if we are going to Branson yet because we dont know if Grandma is going yet. She is suppose to be finishing her treatment like this month or something and may feel up to it come the end of August. If she doesnt go there is no one to keep my dad in check, so my sisters and I wont go if that is the case.
God I hate my dad. A few days ago I got a letter in the mail - he had accidently opened a letter that came for me (which is actually plausable because my name is Stephaney, him Stephan, and he is an alcoholic so it might have looked like his name to him). The letter was from the hospital saying they hoped my stay was comfortable and if I had any questions yada yada yada. The thing is, he didnt know I had gone to the hospital. So along with the letter from the hospital, was a letter from him saying *think sarcastically caring voice* "Oh I didnt know you went to the hospital, I hope you're ok, I wish we could get along better blah blah blah". So now he is calling everyday probably wanting to talk to me about it (we wont answer the phone when he calls, no one wants to talk to him). I really wish I had a better dad. I still remember back when I loved him and I thought he was the coolest dad ever. Makes me want to cry because my opinion of him has definately changed.
Yes, I am rambling. Nothing else to do. Maybe I should play a video game or something... I would... but Friday Night Stand Up is on! |
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[Jul. 22nd, 2005|08:11 pm] |
On the verge of tears.
Lonely.
Having really bad memory flashbacks.
Remembering times I'd rather forget.
I'd rather not experience anything like it again, but here I find myself.
Upset over the same thing.
Crying now.
I am not worth shit. |
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