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she's a double whammy. [Apr. 16th, 2008|10:33 pm]
my apartment always smells like stove gas.



this probably means i die a little bit each time i'm home.
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i was sent a gay male porn magazine in the mail today. [Feb. 1st, 2008|02:09 am]
[Current Mood |awakediet root beer!]

i might be pregnant.

i've been having very specific, very strong cravings.

for example, for approximately 13 days now, all i've wanted to drink is Diet Root Beer. preferably IBC, but others have served as acceptable substitutes.

it doesn't really make sense because i'm not a soda person and when i'm running, i don't generally want to pump crap into my body.

that didn't stop me from buying a 40 of Berghoff Diet Root Beer though. ok, it was actually a 32 oz'er.

in other news, i can't wait for next tuesday - Super Tuesday! my heart still belongs to Hillary and i'm crossing my fingers that she kicks the shit out of Obama.
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whatevsies. [Nov. 18th, 2007|12:35 am]
i never never ever post on here anymore. my myspace blog has replaced this crap.

i'm going to bed now.

what an interesting day.

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gayville. [Jan. 11th, 2007|11:25 pm]
[Current Mood |thirstythirsty]
[Current Music |erin mckeown: sing you sinners.]

anyone know anyone who knows anything about oakland/san francisco bay area?
i got a job offer there and don't know a thing about the area..............


and i'm thirsty.
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rrrrrrrright. [Jul. 21st, 2006|05:23 pm]
[Current Location |the infamous tilting futon (in washington, D.C.)]
[Current Mood |hungryhungry]
[Current Music |the buzz of the fan.]

d.c. has been interesting...
i'm going back home in a few weeks (HOORAY!)

myspace is much better than lj.

i had the strangest dream last night about the chicago marathon. i'm running it again this october and my dream was of me running it ... but an interesting version of it, complete with an obstacle couse, tarzan swing over water, a high school track, and dozens of rocks in my shoes - which i had to remove at least a dozen times during the run. also, i was either the only person running it OR i was in last place. i think it was my inner running self telling me to hurry home...i'm moving when i get back to bloomington and the constitution trail will be right outside my front door. i'm super excited about that!

i'm just super excited in general about going home.

i don't care what anyone says, i enjoy bloomington-normal. i won't live there forever, but i have enjoyed it thus far and will continue to, until something takes me elsewhere...again.
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(no subject) [May. 29th, 2006|03:58 pm]
[Current Mood |lazylazy]

i am moving to washington d.c. for the summer ... next sunday!!! that's less than a week.
why d.c.? http://www.cwla.org - that's why.
i'm working as a paid msw (master's in social work) intern all summer at the child welfare league of america.

perhaps my life is finally beginning.

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On child abuse. [Apr. 18th, 2006|11:09 pm]
[Current Mood |pissed offpissed off]
[Current Music |none.]

What i love most about being the product of this nation's child welfare system is the cycle. The fear of potentially being a neglectful and/or abusive parent. A somewhat irrational fear that prevents me from thinking about ever really having children of my own. I rationalize it - if I never have children - then I never perpetuate the cycle. I've looked at my sister's life and her five children, five beautiful children. My sister has not always been the best mother, but she has put forth all of her effort and love for these children. Unfortunately, she has been stuck in a dangerous relationship with their father for 13 years now. My mother is reflected in her, and I know that she hates that. I found out tonight that my sister was turned in to DCFS this weekend. The neighbor saw my sister's boyfriend-husband beating on the youngest of my nieces. The most helpless, most innocent, most funny of all my nieces. Undoubtedly, the accusations ... are true. He did it. My sister took said niece out of school the last few days and is apparently living in fear of DCFS arriving at her door. The culture of ignorance surrounding the role of DCFS is profound. You'd think that someone who was raised by DCFS would know how difficult it actually is to get a child removed. This grip that 'he' has on my sister is sickening to me...she's not only trying to protect herself and keep her children...she is also protecting him. And all I want to do is go over there and beat the living fucking shit out of him.

And people wonder why I fucking have rage issues sometimes.
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they always spelled my name wrong. [Feb. 18th, 2006|05:21 pm]
[Current Mood |coldfreezing.]
[Current Music |.]

April 16, 1986

Visit with mother went great - children made little dolls and animals out of yarn and pipe cleaner. They have a lunch that mother brings. Then they have some snacks to take home with them. They really enjoy their visits and are anxious to get into the room to see mother when they see her truck in the parking lot.

. . .

I would settle for a weekly visit right now.

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is that your final answer? [Jan. 31st, 2006|01:59 am]
[Current Mood |bitchybitchy]
[Current Music |the humidifer.]

so like...when the hell did it become socially acceptable for contestants on 'who wants to be a millionaire' to include the phrase "final answer" at the end of their answer??? like BEFORE meredith even has a fucking chance to ask the famous question herself.

it's such bullshit.
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facade! [Jan. 25th, 2006|01:22 pm]
[Current Mood |pensiveintrospective]
[Current Music |the tune to matlock]

It's the middle of the week, 1:23pm. I'm in a hotel room in Litchfield, Illinois and Matlock is playing at a distance. I'm lucky I got to this point. I could have cracked.

I lived here in 1986, and it seems insane that this was 20 years ago. I remember the 66 Motel Court where my bio mom worked and having pink eye. I also remember beating the shit out out of a boy with my sister - a boy who took my bike and wouldn't give it back. He was riding it, circling Sihler Grade School on the blacktop which substituted our recess playground. My sister grabbed his shirt when he came a little too close on the bike and she pulled him off the still moving bike. We then proceeded to beat him silly. I also remember 842 South State Street, the only residence with happy bio memories. About 7-8 years ago, I traveled back to that apartment only to see that it was boarded up and condemned, much like my happy childhood years. Funny.
My mom, sister and I were little fighters. We had foul language ... and created walls between ourselves and anyone who tried to get in. We were the white trash brigade of sorts, here in Litchfield. Some girl in my sister's class threatened to beat her up one day at school. That afternoon, a small riot broke out on our front lawn, at 842 South State Street. A crowd of about 10 kids had marched their little asses to our apartment and demanded my sister Keri. My mom, sister and I walked out to our front porch and looked at them. My mom then handed my sister a wooden ball bat and said, "Take care of them, Keri!" The kids quickly ran away and we stood there laughing. My bio mom specialized in facades. Don't let others smell your fear, she would say. No matter how much someone beats you down, don't let them know you're down.
I think she's lived by that belief system for the duration of her 53 years.

The view from this hotel room is drab. Some type of truck center and a wanna-be Farm Fleet called "Rural King." The sun is screaming all over the place and I need to get outside soon. Yesterday, I attempted to support small business here in Litchfield by taking a trip to the local Capri IGA. A grocery store I ran around as an eight year old. I boycotted WalMart over two months ago now and coming to Litchfield reminded me why. There are only two places to buy food in this town - the IGA and Super WalMart. I was aching for some vegetarian cuisine or some type of tofu-noodle dish. I have a microwave and fridge in my hotel room and wanted to "cook" my "food" here instead of going out for each meal. Walking down the aisles of IGA was daunting...and haunting. I wondered if people looked at me like I was an outsider and crazy because of how I looked, or because I was looking at them with the same fear. Averting my eyes instantly would prevent them from smelling my fear. IGA disappointed me and had no vegetarian or "ethnic" cuisine.

As I walked through the automatic doors, I rationalized my emergency visit by thinking that by taking my business to WalMart just this once, I would be supporting the employees staring at me. We make choices all the time, and whether or not going to Litchfield WalMart yesterday was ethical...I'm not sure. 'We Sell For Less' cost me $17.69. Leaving, I felt like an alcoholic who had just relapsed. The greeter bid farewell to the woman leaving the doors right before me...and the man directly behind me. I felt a little cheated.

I'm not sure what will become of this sabbatical. I'm not sure if I'm taking a vacation from myself, my home, or those I call my friends and family. Litchfield is my therapeutic alternative, though, I know this much. I was about to jump out of my own mind when I realized in class that I need to get into my car and go. Too much is whirling all around and I have fallen short of answers. Answers to questions that I keep asking myself, really.

I'm hoping for beauty in the breakdown, not tragedy.
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