11:04 AM  ()
and you're never there anymore.
I should get dressed. I have things I need to do.

October 25, 2003
9:28 PM  ()
and it's hard not to stare.
I just watched my Dad flip out on remote controls for about 10 minutes before I let HIM know I was awake. It was pathetic. And he was screaming at me because I was giving him a hard time about it. They're remote controls for Christ's sake. Remote controls!

Friendster has got to be one of the most ridiculous websites to exist.

12:51 PM  ()
and joyce was my savior.
Last night was one big pile of ridiculous, and after this I shall never speak of it again because I'll stop caring about it pretty quick. Having an emotional break down in public after putting up with so much shit from myself and a pile of ignorance on top of that just wasn't fun. I was embarassed to be me, and I was embarassed to know some of the people that I know. I'm just glad I got to sleep in my own bed last night, I'm lucky I found the keys to the house.

I don't think my Dad knows I am home or was home last night. I came through the basement walkout door. I'm not hungover, but I'm ill. Whatever was wrong with my body this past week is now worse. I'm a huge moron.

Well, there's some good coming out of it. I officially quit smoking today, so let's hope that works out for me. I'm done with it. And I'm done with trying to make this life a little bit better here. I'm just going to do what I have to do and then leave. That's really all there is to do now isn't there?

Sigh. I lost my toque (that used to be my Mom's) last night. I should have just kept the damn thing on my head. I made two friends, though. Ha. The waitress last night, I believe her name was Randi (or Brandi), and a friend's sister. I am so thankful to have had her (Joyce) there for me, otherwise I don't really know what would have happened to me. I should phone her and thank her again for, well, keeping me safe and emotionally stable.

I was supposed to go out to see Deville tonight at The Black Swan with Death By Stereo and Himsa. I think I'm just going to stay home, and hang out with my Dad. Maybe I can con him in to renting Finding Nemo. I want him to see it so badly. Gotta love the seagulls, alright? They're my favourite.

It's
okay
to
run away
sometimes.

3:31 AM  ()
here's the deal:
Don't come anywhere fucking near me.

October 24, 2003
3:02 PM  ()
early detention in (my) office.
So, I tried to make an appointment with Mr. Family Doctor yesterday for as soon as possible. The receptionist asked me what the appointment would be concerning and I told her the truth: "I'm having severe emotional ups and downs, and it's affecting me physically." So, she set up an appointment for next Wednesday at 10:50 in the morning. Oh, wonderful. See, now that there's so many god damn depressed people in this world because of my generation, I figure, we're all pushed back because it's the same old, same old. My Dad's been the one who's been urging me to make this appointment for he is incredibly worried about me. He's been calling the office all day today trying to find an opening/cancellation. He'll probably do the same thing on Monday. He's worried because I won't talk to him about what's on my mind. Two things. 1. I don't know what's on my mind, and I don't know what's wrong with me, and I don't know much of anything about anything right now. 2. If I end up talking, I already know who I want to talk to, but I haven't been asked or provoked to say anything. Maybe I should just start seeing a psychologist again. I may have to, we'll see. I may just be losing my mind for good here. I almost hope. Couldn't tell ya, I'm starting not to care because it's seems to me that no one else gives two shits anyway. I'm continuously helping other people with their problems that I end up having no time for my own. And, well, now I do have time for my own, so I'm drowning myself in all sorts of sorrow and self-pity. And you know what? Right now, I fucking like it.

I'm turning in to an angry pile of gross.
It's kind of frightening. My Dad can't stand talking to me on the phone because my voice is so monotonous. I make him feel guilty for not knowing what to do with me (apparently), and I always sound/act as though he's disturbing me. I don't agree with this, but I can see where he's coming from with that on some occasions.

I'm tired of this.
I want myself to just go away. I sound like a depressed gothic 13 year old girl that does nothing but bitch about how the world hates her. Ah, but I'm not. I'm just angry because my Mother's dead. I'm angry because I've been torn away from where I feel most comfortable. I'm angry because I'm lost. I'm angry because I don't know what I want. I'm angry because he's not here. I'm angry because that one's asking me too many fucking questions. I'm angry because I don't know how to get rid of this. I'm angry because I don't know any other way to express the emotions inside of me. I'm angry because I'm tired. I'm angry because I'm going out tonight to get drunk because I don't have any other ideas on how to be happy or have fun right now. I'm angry because I'm going about all of this the wrong way. I'm angry because he hasn't asked. I'm angry because I'm hating things - I don't like hating things. I'm angry because I have to explain why I'm angry. I'm angry because it's fucking windy outside.

All of this. All of this affects me in all sorts of different ways. All this anger. It's pathetic, and I want to get rid of it and I don't fucking know how.

1:39 AM  ()
"six feet under".
- Why do people have to die?

- To make life important.

12:32 AM  ()
pout, and some more of that.

October 23, 2003
9:38 AM  ()
no one's in the house, yet i woke up to someone's voice.
Yeah, I must admit, this morning's wake up was quite strange. It's raining outside, and it seems to be very windy. What I heard could have been the wind, but I'm pretty sure I heard a voice. I think it should just snow already.

I feel like such a jerk right now, but I suppose I just wanted to be acknowledged.

What am I supposed to be doing today? Oh, right. Resumes. I don't have the energy to do anything right now. This is not good. I should be laying face down in snow or something. Come on, Winter.

I fell asleep around 11:30 last night, so I'm up at a reasonable time. Hm. I'm already eating chocolate. Breakfast. Great.

October 22, 2003
8:14 PM  ()
and she heads straight for rock bottom?
Fuck.

4:11 PM  ()
let's keep it simple: i hate myself today.
I just finished watching White Oleander. That would be the second time I've seen it. Clifford being the one who first told me to watch it. I quite enjoy it. I like movies. I like them because they're a quick escape, they don't take much effort like a book does (don't get me wrong, reading is one of my top favourites).

I am tired. And I think I might just try to sleep the rest of the day away. I was supposed to get together with Erin around 2:30-3:00, but that was cancelled. We're doing something later on tonight, I suppose. I just realized I'm expecting a phone call from Clifford tonight. Augh, waiting. That's all I fucking do these days. I wait for everything.

Someone called from the Foothills Hospital asking for my Mother. I've been in such a bad mood all morning I became frustrated with this phone call, I became frustrated with this woman. She asked if she could speak with my Mom, and I became the ultimate bitch and said, "No, she's dead." I didn't feel guilty for it, because the woman on the other end of the line didn't seem affected by it at all. Although she did keep talking about it and asking me questions about it which ended with me hanging up on her.

What an awful day today has been so far.
Why don't I get pretty things anymore?

10:25 AM  ()
"i did, once, already. on a track field. ha, oops."
I had two dreams last night that absolutely mortified me in my sleep and when I woke up from them. The first dream after what I had seen and what was done right in front of me by two people I hold close, I could barely breathe. I killed myself afterwards, I couldn't live without what was taken from me. I woke up in a cold sweat and crying like a baby.

The second dream, something quite similiar, and one of them was there. There, right in front of my face, and I wanted to murder her. All these girls, and these people, just mocking me - wondering why I was there. Later on apologies were made, but both dreams scared the living hell out of me.

Please, don't ever do that to me.

October 21, 2003
2:25 PM  ()
oh my god, she'll be coming after you in the summer time.
I just spent the last two hours at DT's writing letters. I finished one to Kat, and finished another to Sharon. I need Sharon's address. I began to feel sick after a while. It could the excessive amounts of coffee I drank along with the cigarettes I smoked (I think that had to be part of it), and the fact that I am making myself ill from all this thinking I've been doing. I'm a little more than low right now. Things are incredibly confusing. I sent two letters to Clifford today, already. They're ... quite depressing. Kat's letter is depressing, too. Sharon's... I started to reminisce in. I just started jotting down memories of old prank calls I made throughout the years and I told her of my dog taking a crap in the car on Sunday night while waiting for my Dad and I to arrive. Yeah, that's right. He took a crap. In the car. Oh, goody!

Anyway, I got home and brushed my teeth for about ten minutes... and then I felt this urge to vomit. And I did. I am through with coffee. I am quitting this disgusting smoking habit as soon as possible. Like, right now. And I have two extra strength Tylenols inside of me that should kick in pretty soon. My head is pounding. I am a physical and emotional wreck. This is so lame.

I actually kind of really hope my Dad never reads this website again. Brother showed it to him while I was gone. The foul language disgusted him so he vowed never to visit the site again. Good thing. I don't really care who reads this website (referring to anyone from the family) as long as nothing I say is brought up in conversation with other family members or with me. It was alright for my Dad because he wanted to know if I had been writing like this when my Mom was alive, because she apparently used to visit my website all of the time (which I did not know about, but it is out there for the world to read - so, there's not much I can do about it) and she enjoyed my writing - even when it was angry disgusting smut. She used to tell my Dad about how good I was and all this riff-raff, so he wanted to check it out. And he did. And he didn't like it. And that's okay. He likes the writing that I put effort in to, but he doesn't need to be reading my daily written recordings of my thoughts anyhow. He ends up hearing them in a slightly more polite way when he gets home anyway.

Oooh, I'm so full of angst right now. And I feel so ill. I'm feeling a bit better now, though. Medication is kicking some ass inside.

I need to buy a new curling iron. I need to let Dad know I will be out later than midnight on Friday and Saturday night. Maybe I should just spend the night somewhere. I wonder if he would even allow that. He's laying down some pretty nonsensical rules, but we have yet to talk about them. Last night was just.. Incredibly strange. I feel like I'm twelve all over again, which I stated in both Kat's and Clifford's letters. Wow, I'm boring.

12:19 AM  ()
i considered throwing roses. but she wouldn't be there to catch them.
Maybe
you
should
drown
me
in
a
certain
expectation.

October 20, 2003
11:29 AM  ()
please don't go.
I swear if I let myself think about this for much longer I will be in tears in no time. I'm back in Alberta, now. I am not happy about this. I was really happy to see my Dad, but you know - strangely, it wasn't how I thought it would be. I thought we'd be incredibly happy to see each other, and I figured we both might want to go out for an hour or so before we got home. None of this happened. The dog accidentally shit in the car, we drove home down the highway with all of the windows down, and we got home and (after cleaning out the car) we went straight to bed. I was supposed to go with him in to Calgary early this morning because his car was taken in for repairing. He let me sleep in, which was nice. I'll be picking him up around dinner time if he still needs me to.

I sort of rushed Clifford and I up to the gate. I could have stayed with him for about another 20 minutes (my flight was late coming in), but I was ready to start bawling and begging him to come with me or to take me back to Whitby. Leaving him is the hardest part. It, seriously, gets harder and harder each time. I feel almost broken, torn in half. Half empty and depressed. I, also, hate this very much.

It was good to see everyone. I'll be honest with my saying I'm through with attempting to keep Scott Brodie in my life. Absolutely no effort made on his part, so why should I even waste my time? Plus, I don't need his Mother blaming my not being around while I'm down there directly on me. It'll be my fault now simply because I no longer give a shit. Ah, but I am thankful towards that family because if it weren't for them I would never have made it to Ontario and I wouldn't have met all of the wonderful people that I now have in my life from out there.

I want to go back.
I had written Clifford a note, and I had meant to give it to him at the airport. My rushing the both of us lead to my forgetting to give it to him. Half way home I realized it was still in my pocket. I burst in to tears, like the wuss I am, and had this incredible urge to run back to give it to him. I wanted to ask them to turn the airplane around. I was so upset, and I still am. I am mailing it to him today. I want him to have it so badly.

Okay, I have to end this here before I start crying. I hate crying.

October 14, 2003
3:17 PM  ()
#37487291792749.98
Quick entry. Judy's on her way to pick Clifford up and then she's rushing back here and then we're rushing all over the place in order to get to this performance thing we're going to tonight and, and... rush-rush-rush.

Things are great, and tomorrow I will go job searching - well, dropping off resumes and smiling like a huge knob and saying, "I'm from Alberta, hire me so I can move here." I fell asleep on the couch and I feel like a huge lazy ass, I couldn't make the television work with all their crazy remote controls. I now know how Dad feels at home (I'm the only one who knows how to "fix" the television, he calls me when I'm out in order for me to talk him through the steps... "Alright, now press TV... power... Cable... power. Now the TV will go off. So, press TV again, and power. And then press cable so you can change the channels properly." Dad: "What?" Me: "Okay, and..." again.

Good times.

I need to buy new clothes. I look like a gigantic grunge mistress. Jeans, and Mom's blue wool sweater. And my hair's very plain looking right now. Oh, I rock at trying to look nice, don't I?

October 09, 2003
4:35 AM  ()
pink and forty-nine.
Well, leaving the house at 5:30 in order to arrive at the airport an hour and a half early (flight leaves at 7:30, arriving there around 6:00). Wish me luck on my flight! And god damnit, Clifford, I can't wait to see you.

October 08, 2003
5:17 PM  ()
and you're not breaking my glasses this time.
1 day, damnit. Just one. 14 hours and 30 minutes, or damn near close to it - and then I leave.

October 07, 2003
10:39 AM  ()
so, go away?
And now it's 2 days away. I had two horrible dreams last night. I hated them so I'm not even going to write them out.

I'm totall.. FUCK. THE PHONE. AND IT'S RINGING. AND THE GOD DAMN. Okay. I'm okay now. So, I suppose I woke up a little grumpy. So, I suppose I'm a little pissed off with my Dad for ridiculous reasons. So, I suppose that guy I had an interview with yesterday just creeped me out and shouldn't have hit on me. So, I suppose I have to make today worth it. Hell, I leave in two days anyway!

Had a blast with Justin and Kyla last night. I really enjoyed myself, although we didn't do much of anything. I haven't laughed like that in ages. So, thanks to those kids for that.

I think I'll go shower and start the laundry now. I need to clean some things so that I can pack them, and I'm packing tonight because I'm really not going to be able to do it at the last minute. Bad idea. Very bad idea.

October 06, 2003
6:10 PM  ()
ripping out hair. aghrts!
Do not wish me luck. I do not want that job.

2:47 PM  ()
can not find server.
So, I'm off for a job interview at 4:00 at Sunridge Mall. Spencers. They need some sort of Supervisor or something. And they're incredibly desperate. I kind of lucked out with that. If I get the job, then I will stay until February and add to my Ontario moving funds without a problem. But, there's a chance that they don't hire me, right? So I'll still be looking for a job out in Ontario, and if I'm offered a better job out there in Ontario, well... I guess I'll rush myself out there. We'll see. We'll see. It'll probably be a better idea for me to stay until February anyways (although I will go insane living with my Dad, at least I'll have a job), that way I can move out with more sense of financial security, right? Right? Right.

Wish me luck, and stuff.

10:00 AM  ()
dun, dun, dun.
countdown: 3 days

October 05, 2003
2:34 PM  ()
wow.
I'm incredibly bored. I'm supposed to be catching up with Jamie today, but he hasn't called yet. I half-expected him to call by now. Oh, well. Either way is fine. I can either catch up with him today or some other time, right? He's not going anywhere just yet, and nor am I. (Although he will have to wait two weeks.)

Countdown: 4 days
Most excellent, I figure.

October 04, 2003
2:07 PM  ()
what kind of girlfriend are you? results:
Ha. Haha!Anime!


-Perfect- You're the perfect girlfriend. Which
means you're rare or that you cheated :P You're
the kind of chick that can hang out with your
boyfriend's friends and be silly. You don't
care about presents or about going to fancy
placed. Hell, just hang out. You're just happy
being around your boyfriend.


What Kind of Girlfriend Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

October 02, 2003
9:40 AM  ()
remember, heather: call scott before you leave.
countdown: 7 days

Annnd he called me pretty late last night so I can imagine he must have slept in this morning. I hope, otherwise you can all blame me if he's tired and grumpy at their show tonight in Peterborough.

Meagan's Mom will be here with her partner in crime (actually, they're co-workers, and they do a hell of a job cleaning this place) around 11:00-11:30. I look like absolutely nothing, I shouldn't even be given a second thought of being reflected ever again looking like this. I have two hours. I could shower. I should shower. I will shower. I'm not straightening my hair today, though. I have to give it a break for a couple of days, it's starting to get upset with me. I have to call my Dad. Let him know I've been awake for 45 minutes. He likes to know when I wake up, see.

Big fight occured between Father and daughter earlier on in the afternoon yesterday. It was not fun. I did not enjoy that. It ended off with both of us sobbing and missing Mom. Fuck. He wants me to talk to him, and I can't if he's continuously trying to force it out of me. I can't say anything if it's being forced out, I have to be able to just say it when I want to say it. And even if I want to say it, the fact that he's continuously asking me what I'm thinking or what's wrong, I can't tell him. Because I know in about 2 minutes he'll try to force it out of me (not with anger). I can't deal with that, and then I get frustrated, and then all I want to do is be left alone (and that still never happens in this household).

The only time I cry alone for the most part is at night. Why? Because no one can hear me and I know no one's going to burst into the room asking me to clean something or move something or let me know they're home or call me up for dinner or tell me to pick up a sock in the laundry room, etc.

The telephone's ringing. Well, I guess I don't have to call Dad anymore. Ha.

Ha, I almost gave up on him last night. And then he called. And I was happy. I am so excited and I can not wait to see him. I like what Kat said in an e-mail she sent me this morning or last night (can't remember, I read it this morning) about wanting to come to the airport again with Clifford when he picks me up. She likes witnessing romantic comedy moments. Romantic comedy moments! I suppose Clifford and I are one big romantic comedy. And then... I started laughing and couldn't stop. So thank you, Kat, for giving me a kick-start to a good mood this morning.

October 01, 2003
9:22 AM  ()
yeah, baby.
countdown: 8 days

9:19 AM  ()
nightmare, and a dead dog.
So, I guess I should write about my dream. I woke up from it in a cold sweat and my heart in a panic. I had to slow it down, I could feel it beating, it was shaking my entire bed.

Anyway, onwards. I was living in this house with this abusive brother, he had the face of an actor (the most recent movie I've seen with him in it was Blade 2, the most recent helper that backstabs them). This house was falling apart, and I mean doors were left open all of the time, and we were always doing construction to the place. I was an incredibly quiet person. I thought more than I did anything. I did anything I was told to do, but I didn't speak much. Anyway, he had this horrible dog. Beautiful, but horrible. Grey eyes, and a mean temper, and did anything to keep me away from him. And if she knew anyone was upsetting this brother of mine in my dream, she would scare the living shit out of you.

You know how animals go hide when they're dying? Well, in most cases. Another dog decided to use our back entrance (an entrance we rarely use) to pass away in because no one was home or something. Plus, the house we were living in was so ratty it hurt. We were bums, we had no money, we just had this stupid house. I found the dead dog. I was mortified. But I couldn't tell this brother of mine because I knew he would blame it on me, he figured I had a natural hate for dogs. I didn't, just hated his. I left the dog there. It was under a sheet of wood, I figured my brother would need that soon enough and he could find it and do something about it. I had no idea what to do.

Weeks later, I started to realize he hadn't found it yet. He hadn't been over in that back corner beside our back entrance. He lost his dog one evening, couldn't find it. Started ripping the house apart looking for her, and then he lifed up the sheet of wood. His dog was actually eating this half decomposed dog and was literally turning into something else. He freaked out, gave his dog shit, and couldn't believe his eyes. The dog ended up running into the room I was in and sat down in front of me. It's eyes still grey but it's face warped like I've never thought I could imagine. And the mouth, oh god. The mouth was f*cked up and, actually, quite terrifying. I woke myself up. I couldn't deal with it anymore. I was too freaked out, and I had to turn on my television in order for me to get back to sleep. I had to breathe in deeper in order to calm down my stupid heart.

And then I was fine.

( My poor boyfriend missed his bus this morning and is now walking 2 hours to his school campus. Man, that would suck. )