I had written something but then my computer got fucked up and it erased. Maybe it was meant to be. I miss the way things used to be.

-Mary

I keep telling myself that tonight will be the night when I go to bed early. But alas, night after night I find myself up at four in the morning with just a few more things that I want to get done before I go to bed. So here I am again. But after I do this I really am going to sleep. Sorry it's been a few days since my last entry, I've just been kinda busy. My parents came up on Wednesday. It was hard but it was good, take that for what it is because I'm not going to say any more.

My room is a mess, and my room usually reflects my state of mind, so needless to say I'm a little stressed, and a little scattered. I still haven't put away my clothes from when I did laundry on Monday night with Lizzie (or should I say Fizzgig). Which by the way was an experience in itself. I think I could spend my entire day at a laundrymat just people-watching, as long as I had a book that I could pretend to be reading. This mother and her children, well I'm not even going to get into it but let me just say that it made me think twice about squeezing out a few.

I have a lame weekend ahead of me. The campus will be packed with high schoolers for the next few days due to the state wrestling competition, and I will be spending my time researching in the library for my comparative political culture class. I'm excited about the paper, it's just always a bit daunting in the beginning process of a research paper. And as many of you know, I am not one that frequents the libraries on campus so this weekend should be a real treat. I wish that I could be sitting in some bar tomorrow night, slowly sipping chocolate martinis with Pat, but instead I'll be pouring over articles about political music in Ireland no doubt. Oh well, there's always spring break for that.

Jackie's family is coming down for the competition so I look forward to spending some quality time with her parents in between my jaunts to the library. I absolutely love them. My favorite memory of this last summer involved sitting around a campfire with them, drinking very very late into the night, joking around with Jackie's Dad and eating homemade drunk food made and served by Jackie's Mom. They're more than good people, they're the best that's out there. I'll never forget my introduction to Mr. DePeau. I was floating in Jackie's pool with my eyes closed trying to get a well-needed tan. I had untied the top of my suit so as to avoid tan lines. Out of nowhere I am getting douched with ice cold water. I sit up and grab my top at the same time so as not to fall out and flash everyone. When I can finally open my eyes I see Mr. DePeau standing on the outside of the pool and he says, "Welcome to the country Chicago." That moment just about sums up all that I love about that man.

After working out I spent a majority of the evening discussing penises with Steph and Jackie. Well and about guys in general. Our conclusions: It's not fucking fair. It sucks to be a girl, it's so much easier to be a guy, you guys sweat out big macs while you sleep etc. After that I went into a group chat with Jeff and Jeff, something I haven't done in years. It was often times confusing, especially since they have the same name and I certainly can't use the nicknames I came up with the distinguish them from one another while online with them can I Jack? Anyway, it's late and I'm actually starting to get tired. This entry sucked, I'm well aware but I've gone too many days without journaling and I think when I do that too much shit slips my mind. If I make a point to journal every day then I tend to pay closer attention to things throughout my day and commit them to whatever sliver of memory I have left.

Any last minute thoughts? Oh yeah, I got a sweet ass pair of Birkenstocks and a great new sweatshirt while my parents were up the other day- one of the many perks of parental visitation. Oh my God and I forgot to mention that Bessie (my car, the blazer) is going to be ok! They decided that she's not quite ready for the slaughter house. This is great news because for a while we weren't sure whether or not she was going to be scrapped, I guess the damage totaled somewhere around $4900. So I am very happy to know that I can pick her up when I'm home for spring break and bring her back to her cozy little underground parking spot. Anything else? Oh yeah, I don't know who warned me the other day, whether it was Pat or it was Brian. Whoever it was, watch your back, cause if either of you pulls that shit again you're done. Oh, and I've decided to become pen pals with Mr. Grand, it should be an exciting endeavor.

Shit I gotta be up in like three hours so I'm gonna wrap this up (no lectures please about my lack of sleep). A quote from the song I'm listening to at this precise moment..."Look where all this talking got us baby" White Discussion, another amazing song by Live. All right, I'm out and I think it's invevitable that I am going to have a dream about piggy back rides, I tend to dream about prevalent themes of my day and believe it or not that was one of them.

-Mary

PS- I remembered one more thing. Way to give Mom and Dad this web address Julie, after I specifically told you not to. When they asked why they weren't allowed to look at it I said that it wasn't like there's anything in here that I don't want them to read, it's just that I'm afraid I might censor myself if I know they're going to be reading it, and I don't want to have to do that. My mother's response, "Well know that I have the address and could look at it whenever I want to and I guess censor yourself accordingly." Of course she was kidding, but then I realized where I tend to get that snoopy streak of mine, breaking into other people's email etc., which makes me wonder whether she'll stay away or sneak a peak. Anyway, thanks Jules, for making it possible.

My Dearest Dooblicoon,

How right you are, I have been lax in my correspondence with you and I do apologize profusely. Now that you mention it I do believe you are correct in your theory that since high school the only emails I have written you stem from some sort of fight we have experienced. How outrageous! Well, I decided that instead of just emailing you I would try and make up for these past few years of willfully disobedient behavior and not only send you something with my thoughts, but put it out there for everyone else to see. Let it be known to all who read this, I am writing to my dear Dooblicoon, read on if you wish but it will most likely just disturb and bewilder you.

Doobli, sign me up for that club you were talking about. Although I'm not at all interested to have the last shred of whatever femininity I have in your eyes torn away from me, if it's all in the sake of good fun and if it promises an apartment downtown with high ceilings, great natural light, and old dark wood then I am all over it. Interesting though. Last I heard Buckman was in the running, seems now you have opted for your twin. Not that I'm at all opposed, just wondering if perhaps we should call some sort of club meeting before you execute such powers. Power hungry already? I certainly hope not. I would hate to have to go behind your back and have you black-balled before you even got out of the gates. Watch yourself Doobli, word on the street is someone vile is already spreading rumors that you can't hack it as club leader, something about a D in a Calculus class a few years back. Horrible and hateful lies I'm sure, you know how this rat race can be.

Anyways, no worries my boy I'm sure any ridiculous rumors involving prior math grades and insulting slipups involving the sexuality of past teachers can easily be quashed once word spreads about your incredibly strong inner thigh muscles. I was brainstorming today, in between drinking my chai and daydreaming about my mother's womb, what your slogan would be if we indeed need to get you elected into your position. We need to emphasize the unbelieve strength of those thighs of yours but must also make mention of your calves and the fact that at specific times in your life while in a confined area with what quite easily could have been a 5:1 girl/guy ratio many asked, many questioned, many screamed out loud..."Why is Jeff so sexy?". I think that will be your foot in the door.

I absolutely despise the fact that you deny me chasing you around a room with sweaty panty liners right before I was chastised by Linda. One of my favorite memories of you indeed. I snuck up behind you and started to put them in your face. You did one of those sudden and loud, "Oh my God!" things that you do so well. You jumped up and sworn that if I came any closer to you there'd be some sort of hell to pay. I took a step closer and that's when Linda yelled at us both to sit down and shut up. You looked relieved and I laughed because you got yelled at along with me even though you were in actuality simply protecting yourself from my profusely sweaty armpits.

Oh, very quickly before I forget. The bellhop from the hotel called. He finally got his pictures developed, something that I think we're all aware he's been promising to do since the beginning of February! Anyway, they're finally in and he said and I quote, "That one of you and Dooblicoon is absolutely smashing!" He wants to know if we want 4x6 or 5x7. I told him the bigger the better but I also said I'd check with you first. He said if he gets them in before we're back in town he'll just leave it in the room with my blue backpack and your green bag- room 911 right?

Anyway, I got off track. You know how I always fight you on driving all the way out to that movie theatre that's ridiculously far away? I say: It's too damn far! You say: It's fifteen minutes away! I say: (Nothing, I just look at you) You say: Ok, maybe 20 or 25, but it's the best one! Then eventually we make our way out there. My confession: That drive home, late at night, down that strip where no one else is around, us blasting the music (whatever the latest song is that we're both obsessed with that you luckily thought to burn onto a cd which I finally locate once we've tried about 18 different cds because you think it's fun to never label them) those are some of my most treasured times with you. The way we both belt out the song, but it's loud enough where we don't embarrass ourselves. The thing you do with your hand in the air when it comes to a part you really love...you kind of point with two fingers and punch out the words as if to emphasize with your entire body the value of the lyrical content. I never want that road to end, or the song, or the undeniable and powerful energy that flows between us at that point. It's like its own living and breathing entity and I feel like I can reach out and grab it, peel it and eat it slowly and carefully like a banana while you watch closely as I swallow it to make sure I'm doing it correctly (ooh, never thought that would have sexual undertones to it but to those reading it and not knowing the meaning we sound really dirty don't we? Ha, let them think what they want, it was a blizzard for God's sake and we had to do what we had to do to survive).

Well I believe it's time for me to head to bed and end this little witnessed by the world (as if the entire world is reading my journal) email to you. I just wanted to end by thanking you for your email, the one you sent after "The whole world fuckin' ended!". You once again broke through when no one else could. How do you do that damn it? Does it have anything to do with that flax that you consume on a daily basis? Well however it is that you manage to shrink yourself down till you're small enough to sneak into that little crevice of my soul, the one that pumps with my many fears, doubts, and insecurities, brave the treacherous environment and make it back out alive only to rush to my side and promise that tomorrow will be a better day...well for that I can call you nothing short of a miracle. Thank you for everything.

Love Always,
Triaxcylil

Have any of you heard Jason Mraz's song Better? I've been listening to it pretty non-stop and I was wondering what other people thought the meaning of the song is. In the version I have it mentions something about it being a "fuck off" song, but I was just wondering if anyone else had some deeper insights into what they think the song means. Well, since I have yet to figure out how to put up a comment box I guess you'll just have to im me with your ideas.

Thanks

I'm too tired to write much of anything right now. It's almost 3 am, although that's not what it'll say at the top or bottom of this entry, a problem that I believe stems from the malfunctioning of my computer clock. I don't really know what I'm feeling right now. Tonight as I was cleaning out old files on my computer to free up more space I came across a bunch of things that I had forgotten I had even written. It appears as though I tried at least ten times to start a journal unsuccessfully. It seems every single time I tried to do so I was extremely upset about something and it was the only way in which I could regain some sanity, aside from running outside and yelling fuck at the top of my lungs. I opened one that started with: "Mary, what the fuck is your problem?" At first I was wondering who the hell sent me such a rude and confrontational email until I read on and realized I had written it to myself. I was scolding myself for letting everyone else's views and opinions get into my head and start to taint the way I viewed things with someone. I was hard on myself, rightfully so though because I guess I had clicked into sabotage mode (something I'm very familiar with) and was starting to destroy something that at the time was the most important thing I had ever been a part of. I don't even know why I'm even mentioning it now, I guess it just hit me hard tonight as I was reading these journal entries, the common underlying theme of self-sabotage. Anyway, it's something I've been thinking a lot about these past few weeks. No clear conclusions or answers of course, but then there never are with me.

Today I have to meet with my creepy professor who, for those of you who have seen the movie Ghost, looks exactly like that one shady guy down in the subway that taught Sam to touch things when he was dead. You know the one I'm talking about, the real crazy ass. I'm scared to tell him that I have absolutely no idea what I am going to write my paper about, the one that is due very soon. I'm afraid of what he'll say or do. After that it's off to pay my parking tickets. Those of you who know me best know that this is long overdue and I have sworn many times that I was going to take care of it but today I am really determined to do so. With the tickets paid off there will be no threat of my father getting arrested should he be pulled over on his way up to Madison with my mom on Wednesday. Yes, my parents are coming up here once again, they've made quite a few trips in the past few months.

Anyway, I'm actually tired for once so I should probably capitalize on this rarity and call it a night.

The lyrics to a song I'm listening to right now just kind of struck me...
"Will you be my anchor when there is no one around to hold me down?" Angel At My Table- A song by The Frames

P.S.- Sorry JJ, no surprise tonight, I didn't have it in me, but expect it in the next few days.