Hm. It seemed like I had thousands of thoughts worthy of putting out into the inter-void the past days, weeks... now it's hard to remember them. noteworthy: I saw an aweful movie Friday night that maybe some of you like... Fargo. It was one aweful thing after another. By the end there was nothing to wrap up because pretty much everyone was dead. :( I lay awake for a long time that night thinking. I wasn't scared, but I felt like I realized for the first time what it actually meant that I am going to die one day. Eventually I will be staring at my situation realizing I can't escape it, whether it's gunfire quick or long and monotonous or sneaking up on me unawares. I don't remember what it was like to realize that because I felt back to normal by the next morning. Unfortunate. I miss my friends, I think. But I might have a very bad way of missing people; I think I get angry with them instead. I realized a couple weeks ago that I was disgusted with a lot of my friends for various reasons. All those reasons have pretty much disolved. I think it's a warped way of grieving I have. I also feel disgusted with a lot of people in Austin. Maybe I sound just like everyone else; do I talk about unimporant shit all the time? Trivial details; allergy medicine and hair dye and what I usually eat for lunch and stuff like that? I guess it's "normal" but sometimes it just gets to me. I feel like people should either be quiet or be real. (Maybe that is real.) But like I said, I probably do the same thing. (Not sure why this makes me so irritated lately.) I went to a cafe Sunday afternoon to write Thank-you's to relatives and was totally interrupted by a past-middle aged man from northern Algeria who ended up talking to me for a long time. He said he really enjoyed the conversation; said he learns things by conversing and discussing, etc. Well, he did almost all the talking. :/ I agree, you learn a lot from talking to people especially who are different. (We're quite different.) He had some good things to say. I have good things to say (he didn't hear many of them). But somehow at moments I still wondered if it's just because I'm an intriguing and attractive looking younger woman. Cause what if I was a boy? Would he still have talked to me for like two hours? And wanted me to meet him for a beer or two another time? I don't know. See, it's this aweful thing the world does, looking beautiful and fascinating and wonderful and then while you keep looking at the same thing it gets ugly or worn out. It's like looking at cheap clothes up close. You see all the cheats; it's not even attractive any more. It just looks sad. You know those drawings that look like a beautiful young lady at first but then you see it's a witch? I feel like they're saying something. But you know, sometimes the witch turns into the beautiful lady again. You can never tell; and I feel like I can never trust myself. | 
