wooohoo (a realization)

Yeah, I know I've been on an entry rampage lately.

I'm emotional and stuff. That makes me want to pour my heart out left and right, and be all about talking.

Something really retarded dawned on me. I think there are a ton of problems with how people percive me, or how people think of me. I often think that people don' tlike me (Yeah, this is gonna get all wacky and personal, deal with it) so I decide that I shouldn't like them anymore either, so as to free them of my insolence.

Then, just now, as I read gabi's journal, I realized how assinine that is. It's my problem, not anyone else's. The facts are that at any (even insignifigant) slight, I think the world is goign to come to an end. Sadly, this only works in my mind for interpersonal relationships, so I'm way busy worrying about if I should keep so-and-so should as my friend anymore, and end up completley forgetting to pay my cable bill on time... again.

Anyway, there's a point here.

The point is: that, yeah, I'm way immature most of the time, and give too much of a shit what other people think of me. Yeah. So, rather than going with my own gut instincts, I'll often try to play psychic friend, and figure out what you're thinking. Stupid. I'm gonna have to stop doing that.

28 days later comes out on dvd today. If you like scary movies, go buy it, that shit was great.

love and adoration

pamela

Written, Tuesday, Oct. 28, 2003 at around: 9:33 AM

Today is a better day (Patch-free)

Okay,

So I must have sounded kind of odd for the past few days. I've felt really odd for the past few days. If you think you're getting the tough end of the stick, think about how my boyfriend and mom must feel.

Whatever it is they put in those medicated anti-baby precaution patches should totally be illegal. It made me feel like I was a teenager again. Best years of your life my ass. I did not enjoy the ages between 14 and 17, nor did anyone who had to deal with me at the time. Talk about bitchy--- Dude, you don't know the definition of the fucking word if you didn't know me when I was 15. Harmones and emotions for eeevrybody!

I was very much the bitch.

Anyway, I'm 22 now (lol, all grown up, my ass), and no longer have behavioral issues, except when my period rolls around, and I can't handle this, man. I'm not a person who was created to be depressed. I like being happy and easygoing and optimistic, that's what I do best.. Life is pretty awesome most of the time, and I'm pretty lucky.

So last night, I really got overwhelmed. I went home, and I was so wound up I couldn't eat. Whenever my gluttonous ass can't choke down a cheese sandwich, you know there's something wrong. So I put on some shoes and my new coat (My mom bought me a coat... but I have to pay her back for it... ah well) and went for a 30 minute walk in the rain to clear my head a little. So I strolled around South Philly and listened to the barenaked ladies cover of "When Doves Cry," (I sang it aloud [poorly] for a while, which got me some odd looks, lol) and got most of the bullshit out of my system. I came home, and turns out I'm calm enough to eat a sandwich. I started reconsidering using the patch anymore at this point.

Yup. Right. So... Yesterday I spoke to Frank. I was kind of over my freaking out at work moment yesterday (Which I'm rather embarrased about now) and a couple other things I was all bothered about.

Anyway, Frank is all like: "WTF." I go: "I dunno" He's like: "Well, what's wrong with you?" and I say: "whiiiiiiiiiiiine" He says: "Stop bitchin." I snivel. Frank says: "you're bitching for no reason, pam." I go: "But I have reasons to be bitchin... and my period, and my mom, and I don't like my hair color, and I swear if my ingrown tonail doesn't...." He cuts me off and says: "No, seriously. Stop bitchin. Everything's okay. Honest." So I go: "Oh, alright. I looooooooooooove you, soooooo much!" I heard him blush over the phone.

We watched monster garage over the phone, and I went to bed listening to Barenaked Ladies.

All is well.

Let's hope it stays that way. I'm tired of being upset for no reason at all. The next time I get like this, just smack me in the face or something. I might hit you back, but at least I'll stop bitchin.

love and adoration

pamela jean