summer is coming. as is my happiness. I suppose that's always been around though. Hiding in the cold of winter as a dog hides under a bed when it's time for a bath. Life is getting better. I suppose it's the weather.

I haven't posted for a while. I apologize. I guess I'm apologizing to myself because I don't know anyone else who reads this except that one being (hello!). Today is more like a diary entry. I want to type for the next 15 minutes. I just ate a cliff bar. the energy kind, oatmeal raisin walnut. Pretty good. That'll probably be the majority of my lunch. maybe I'll get something small. I haven't been eating much recently. I'm happy about it though. I'm trying to eat healthier. Last night I made an entirely homemade pizza. I made the dough, let it rise, sauted some onions and made tomato sauce. I only made two pizzas with the tomato sauce though. The other there were more like a breakfast pizza. It had olive oil, tarragon, basil, parmesean/asiago/ramano cheese, and I cracked three eggs over the top. I will post the recipe some time! After eating two slices (big slices) I felt the need to work out. I don't like the feeling of being full. it bothers me. I know I know, kids in africa would do anything to have that feeling and I'm a spoiled woman.but I'm sorry that's just the way I am. Life is getting better. I think it's the weather.

I can't wait to get my dreads. That's really all I wanted to post today. It'll take forever to put them in and it'll be such a hassle but I am so stoked. I just want my hair to grow a bit more. The wait will be worth it. xx

not my poem

Julie Sheehan

I hate you truly. Truly I do.
Everything about me hates everything about you.
The flick of my wrist hates you.
The way I hold my pencil hates you.
The sound made by my tiniest bones were they trapped
     in the jaws of a moray eel hates you.
Each corpuscle singing in its capillary hates you.

Look out! Fore! I hate you.

The blue-green jewel of sock lint I’m digging
     from under my third toenail, left foot, hates you.
The history of this keychain hates you.
My sigh in the background as you explain relational databases
     hates you.
The goldfish of my genius hates you.
My aorta hates you. Also my ancestors.

A closed window is both a closed window and an obvious
     symbol of how I hate you.

My voice curt as a hairshirt: hate.
My hesitation when you invite me for a drive: hate.
My pleasant “good morning”: hate.
You know how when I’m sleepy I nuzzle my head
     under your arm? Hate.
The whites of my target-eyes articulate hate. My wit
     practices it.
My breasts relaxing in their holster from morning
     to night hate you.
Layers of hate, a parfait.
Hours after our latest row, brandishing the sharp glee of hate,
I dissect you cell by cell, so that I might hate each one
     individually and at leisure.
My lungs, duplicitous twins, expand with the utter validity
     of my hate, which can never have enough of you,
Breathlessly, like two idealists in a broken submarine.

I think I'm going to write an actual poem for class today.
It was an option. either that or a book review.
I'm no good at book reviews. I think a poem sounds nice.

I'm going to buy flowers for the man I like.
Then maybe he'll like me back.
Not really expecting him too though.
and the fact that I'll send them anonymously,
probably won't help my case.
they'll die eventually.

I liked working two jobs because it gave me an excuse not to see people or feel pressured to spend time with them. also, It get's me out of the house. the only negatives are that I don't have much time to sit and read. Which I like doing. I need to find another job because I've been spending all my time in my room or backyard. I'll probably go get applications today. that's sounds like a good idea. not like I have much else to do anyway.