2004-02-13 - 9:48 p.m.
Blank mind, blank mind, it's not fair, last night the thoughts were buzzing around my head like bugs on heat, keeping me nice and sleep deprived, and now I have nada.
My internal organs are doing weird things. I get the feeling they could be having salsa dancing classes in there for all I know. I am Johnny's medulla oblongata. Etc, etc.
But it's funny you know... if you consider the collective amount of whining/bitching done in my lifetime ... it adds to how much more my internal organs would have to whine about, having to listen and fuel and reverberate my every rant.
And yet they continue to keep the body alive. I get this unquestionable feeling that I'm letting the team down.
The other night I dreamed I had a baby and I loved her more intensely than anything ever. And I spent the whole dream trying to take us home. But I missed buses, got the wrong ones, couldn't find my stop.
This has made me think... how much progress have I really made? Don't go as far back as highschool, I mean, even a slug would be different after highschool, assuming of course that slugs have a marvellously similar education system and personality development to us and that we are just blissfully unaware of it's existence ...
Am I any different now, beginning of '04, to the ye olde start of '02? Did nothing happen to change me in any way shape or form in those one million fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes??
I can't see it or touch it or breathe it or sense it or taste it or hear it or feel it. I definitely can't write it or read it, I flick back through entries past and see a girl chasing her tail or lack thereof.
She is very dizzy.
I still sleep with a toy bunny and puppy on my bed. To keep me safe from vampires, to stop me reaching out for someone who isn't there, to chat to absentmindedly.
God, that kinda makes a mockery out of all the progress I've supposedly made after age 3.
I still put on new clothes and prance around in them, as if I never outgrew playing dressup. I act different in them and it's fun but it doesn't stick and I just slide back to me.
Will I still be this little girl trapped in the brain of a freak at forty? That's scary. Actually, the age forty is scary in itself, I already flinch whenever someone calls me ma'am.
Not because, hey, wrinkles and sagging, I'm not ageist or anything though the prospect doesn't totally appeal. It's just that I don't want to have a scenario where 40yr old me has no inner resemblance to 20yr old me, I don't want their eventual mental confrontation to be like -
40: "Hello, I'm you, 20 years from now,"
20: "......AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Also I'm afraid of what she'll think she knows that she wishes she didn't.
Perhaps I should be more worried about that now, actually.
Ah well, who knows, I could die tomorrow, maybe this entry is just a waste of thought.
My internal organs are doing weird things. I get the feeling they could be having salsa dancing classes in there for all I know. I am Johnny's medulla oblongata. Etc, etc.
But it's funny you know... if you consider the collective amount of whining/bitching done in my lifetime ... it adds to how much more my internal organs would have to whine about, having to listen and fuel and reverberate my every rant.
And yet they continue to keep the body alive. I get this unquestionable feeling that I'm letting the team down.
The other night I dreamed I had a baby and I loved her more intensely than anything ever. And I spent the whole dream trying to take us home. But I missed buses, got the wrong ones, couldn't find my stop.
This has made me think... how much progress have I really made? Don't go as far back as highschool, I mean, even a slug would be different after highschool, assuming of course that slugs have a marvellously similar education system and personality development to us and that we are just blissfully unaware of it's existence ...
Am I any different now, beginning of '04, to the ye olde start of '02? Did nothing happen to change me in any way shape or form in those one million fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes??
I can't see it or touch it or breathe it or sense it or taste it or hear it or feel it. I definitely can't write it or read it, I flick back through entries past and see a girl chasing her tail or lack thereof.
She is very dizzy.
I still sleep with a toy bunny and puppy on my bed. To keep me safe from vampires, to stop me reaching out for someone who isn't there, to chat to absentmindedly.
God, that kinda makes a mockery out of all the progress I've supposedly made after age 3.
I still put on new clothes and prance around in them, as if I never outgrew playing dressup. I act different in them and it's fun but it doesn't stick and I just slide back to me.
Will I still be this little girl trapped in the brain of a freak at forty? That's scary. Actually, the age forty is scary in itself, I already flinch whenever someone calls me ma'am.
Not because, hey, wrinkles and sagging, I'm not ageist or anything though the prospect doesn't totally appeal. It's just that I don't want to have a scenario where 40yr old me has no inner resemblance to 20yr old me, I don't want their eventual mental confrontation to be like -
40: "Hello, I'm you, 20 years from now,"
20: "......AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Also I'm afraid of what she'll think she knows that she wishes she didn't.
Perhaps I should be more worried about that now, actually.
Ah well, who knows, I could die tomorrow, maybe this entry is just a waste of thought.
