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Well HELLO went the Fizinkaling. A Good Day To You. The Fizinkaling only spoke in titles of little-read novels. It Seems Spring Is Stepping.

Yes, I replied. Spring does seem to be... stepping.

I'm in a crunch for time, ladies and gents. And still on my LJ. I don't know how to time manage. This is a thing we've all learned. Aint' it so, Fizinkaling?

Time Waits, he replies.

So it does, so it does.

But um. Yeah. Hey. Omg. I'm still alive and kicking.

Been around, livin', all that. It's been 5 months and 1 day since I met Emmanuel. We're still together, still quite glad to have met one another and have joined at the hip in ways mostly metaphorical. My kitten has grown into a young sprout of a yellow cat and insists on wreaking havoc about the house. My new favorite word is in Spanish: puta madre. Oh, oh, don't tell your abuelitas. Mmm... I dunno. It's prettier than putain mere, even if it means the same.

I feel the same. I feel the same as I ever did, but I suspect I've changed quite a bit. Sousuke, my doll, sits in his box, languishing. I feel guilty. I have old Dir en Grey wallpapers screaming in pain from their folders, untouched. Guilty. I wonder at how we look back on the remnants of our former selves, if it's like looking at soiled laundry. As if, having changed, what remains becomes a chore to throw away. And I wonder too, that if by letting those things remain, we're only holding ourselves back from going forward. From, you know, really truly changing. Like how I'm never gonna get rid of enough clothes to make room for that spiffy Swedish dresser I've been coveting. Things like that.

Oh my jesus I'm still here!

I feel like I wanna jump outta my own skin, and there transcendant I shall be free of worry.

In other news there is school and dinner and new phones and sexy back.

And I have to be seven months pregnant for a scene. Hoo-Fuckin'-Rah. When Asians Play White Trash returns.

My Personality

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This is an entry on that endearing, yet always slightly repulsive and exhausting, race of human we all call 'Manchildren'. You take the mental and emotional awkwardness of teenagery and sprinkle liberally with the advanced stages of puberty, let stew in front of a gaming computer over a flame of familial nurturing and blind love and voila, a generation of tekkie degenerates, spoiling young adulthood for the rest of us.

I brush this topic because today Cory has lied to me. He had told me quite excitedly that he registered for college already and was well on his way to begin his independant life. Today, on asking, he denied ever broaching the subject with me, denying that he had ever registered for college. He had thunk and thunk on it, yes, but he missed that date, flunked that course, dadada, and now he has to stew another semester.

"Gives me a chance to save more money," he gamely points out.

"How's the job search?" I ask.

"Not good," he answers, deflating like a sweaty laundry bag full of Superboy shirts and Tag deodorant spray.

And of girls, I ask? None, he replies. He wants this girl Ysenia, but will she go out with him? No, I say. No, of course not. When you get a guy who considers all of two days a viable relationship, a chica like Ysenia must be bribed to follow.

MANCHILDREN! A manchild all of eighteen years who continues to wear the same sweaty Superboy t-shirts day after day until it falls off his profusely sweaty 200-odd pound frame and buys comics by the box! Who lives with his mother and follows her every word! Who continues to HANG OUT ALWAYS O GOD FORBID!

Yes, okay, maybe I'm being too judgemental, but there's something about grown men who persist in playing WOW 24/7 and spend more time writing reviews on the latest installment of Haruhi than on realizing the desperation of the world around them.

It puts me in mind of a baby playing in his own shit, that's all. Am I so wrong in my disgust? So heavy in my judgement?

These people are my friends, but I look on them harshly and with much pity. Maybe it's because I haven't been a child in such a long time. Maybe I was deprived of such luxury as a kid, and seeing these adults at play clouds me with envy and hate. I've a hammer in my hands while they wield lightsabers and quarterstaffs.

I fear I may be growing up.

My father tells me I have no ambitions. My father only sees and hears what he wants. This has been true from the very beginning. He wanted a son, and so he does not see me. My readers, let me tell you I am not what you want to see, neither am I what you may particularly want to read. But you are reading me, and perhaps, by the end of it, you may begin to see.

My name is Poe. I was born to...

Ehhhh I really have to do more research. Far more research.

I've been a little out of it I suppose. Been kinna doin' my own thang, thinking, writing, reading. There are a few things I HAVE to do, like laundry and school stuff and payin' fines and whatnot, but lately I've had a lot of time to just chills. I've had stories formulating in my b-rain for a while now. Gotta get them out.

Went to see Talledega Nights with Catherine and Patti. I had no expectations that were positive, so I came out deliciously satisfied that I had seen a really stupid movie.

But it was GREAT. It was like they all knew the kind of shit that was comin' outta their mouths. So it was okay to laugh, because they were all laughing at themselves. And we were just laughing with them. It was a delightful laugh-fest.

I went to two different florists looking for the right bouquet for Liz's mum. She's just had a surgery, and it's been brewin' in my head for a few days, like, you know, I oughta do something. A woman just out of a hideous slice-n'-dice procedure has got to be in the want for something comforting. I wanted to bake, but decided that wasn't the way to go, surgeries bein' rather harmful to the appetites, so I thought flowers might be nice. I always liked flowers.

Who doesn't like flowers? Even if somebody got me like a frickin' daisy plucked from a delinquent penitentiary I would cherish it. So yeah. I found a very bright delightful bunch of flora and made sure it got to her. I hope she likes it. I got a balloon too.

I've been having these nightmares about my old boss Shana from Arts XPress. It was weird. Especially since I barely think about it anymore. I was such a clutz.

I've been in a really good good mood. Maybe because I hung with Catherine today. I dunno... we never really chill like we used to, or talk like we used to. I miss all that. I miss hanging out with her and Liz and Ivan. I know things have changed, and I know that I've changed, and made a lot of mistakes, but... in my mind they're still the people I cherish the most, beyond any doubt. So I dunno... even if I'm not the first choice that comes to their minds when it comes to hanging out or solving problems, they're always the first friends I think about. And it's like... any price I have to pay, any distance I have to go to help them out or make them feel better about their day, I'll go that length. They mean that much to me, even if I don't mean that much to them. And I don't want that to change.

o my goddess. I am in such boredom and frustration.

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