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Friday, November 15, 2002

Reasons why I have to get the heck out of the midwest:
To rid myself of this awful accent. ("Say BAAAAgel"!)
To get out of white surburbia, where everyone is a Republican and everyone drives a minivan
To be able to grab lunch from a vendor on the street somewhere
To be able to walk places. And make full use of public transportation
To validate that there IS such thing as live music
To break free of mall America
To get a nifty little apartment.
Gah. Can't wait 'til I go to college....

Fresh squeezed by melly at 7:49 PM

I couldn't sleep last night, probably due to my overdose of the stuff that afternoon. In my fit of insomnia, I wrote a poem. A really, really BAD poem. What monstrosity did I create, do you ask?
clickity clack,
smack crack
broken
nevermind the salt,
my senses have been above
this

Make it go awaaaaaay.
Elyn, the saint she is, dropped her bracelet in the toilet today. The toilet. After she peed in it. I kept cracking up the whole day, seeing this vision of her sticking her dainty hand into the bowl and gingerly picking it out, then trying to hold back vomit. Oh, the insanity.
My dear and beloved Courtney did a good synopsis of this blog the other day. "It's angst-driven", she said. I guess I had never thought of it that way. (That's not an entirely fair statement, though, since I've never really thought about it at all). I guess that's how I am- quiet in real life, "angst-driven" and open in private.
Dear lord, that sounded a bit scary.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 4:00 PM

Thursday, November 14, 2002


Slept for 4 hours today after I left early from school. Had a dream that there was this big bird that kept trying to fly into me, except that I could jump REALLY REALLY high and escape.
I had a fever. What can I say?
Competitive cheerleading season is starting. Excuse me as I barf while everyone of the female gender around me digs out their pompoms.
To-Do list:
-Finish more Mark Twain reading
-Tweak essay
-Memorize articles and sections of Constitution; summarize
-Feed the bird; hope he doesn't attack me
-Watch Survivor
-Find out where Sarah got her "Friends don't let friends cheerlead" shirt

Fresh squeezed by melly at 6:26 PM

Wednesday, November 13, 2002


Had a conversation last night with a fellow blogger yesterday night. She believes I'm way too young to be reading the things I do online.
She's probably right.
I am kind of young to be doing the things I do at my age. No one else in my school has a blog. No one else in my school knows even the simplist bit of HTML. No one reads The Onion; no one else finds current events interesting (unless they involve killing random people.)
So I guess I am a little weird. But a little weirdness is good, I think. It makes you unique. As for my weirdness? Although I may view somewhat mature content online, I think that it's not like I'm losing my childhood or anything. I'm just learning about things. Not neccararily things that I'd do, but interesting things nonetheless.
As for today, I got a flu shot. Oh-nifty-do-dah-day.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 3:55 PM

Tuesday, November 12, 2002


I stole my sister's candy. I held it between my knees. My father says "No, no, Meredith, give it back." So I unleash my knees. I do that funky knee-swinging dance, complete with those really outdated and made fun of peace sign eye things. Anyway. The doorbell rings. Our front door is made of glass. It's some guy.
I just about died of laughing.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 8:37 PM


I love Becky. I really do. No one can withstand my oddness such as this:
Me: I love emotional highs. 'Cause then everything is funny.
Me: Example: Weasel
Becky: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Also, no one would think of asking the prequisite question ("Does it talk about killing Russell Crowe??!") before clicking onto a webpage.
Becky lives in the "outside think box".
And I love her.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 5:26 PM

Monday, November 11, 2002


I got really PO'd today in the library when the "Book of the Week" was "Female Inventors". Yes, it's great that someone finally acknolodges (can't spell. but let's embrace) that woman have minds too. But must we make this the focus? I mean, have you ever seen a book titled "Male Inventors"? No. It's just "Inventors"...that's what they are, and the sex is not the issue. But if you're female (gasp!) and an inventor, it becomes the title of a book.
Maybe I'm making a big deal out of nothing, but it really bugged me.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 4:07 PM


I found something really amusing and really scary today.
It's amazing how many of them requested fried chicken. This worries me. I like fried chicken. Is this leading to something? Or do convicts just have a particular hatred towards chickens?
The abnormal ones are the best. Examples- "Declined last meal offering, but at the last minute decided to eat hamburger at mother's request."
"Bag of Jolly Ranchers" This must have taken a long time to eat. Perhaps he was trying to distract the officials with the aid of fruity goodness.
"Decided final meal should be donated to a homeless person" Bush must've executed this one.
"Justice, Equality, World Peace"....coming from a man that killed and raped his mother, or something.
Weird.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 3:22 PM

Sunday, November 10, 2002


I was reading my diary entries from sixth grade.
Sixth grade was a bad year for me. It was my first year in middle school...my group of friends from elementary school broke up, so I was off to fend for myself. I had trouble fitting in. I was constantly made fun of for my clothing choice, for my word choice, for my apparent choice to be born. I wanted to scream, "It's not my fault! Why do you hate me so much?"
A girl named Chelsea was particularly nasty. She threatened me, berated me, called me names. I wanted to kill her.
I wanted to kill myself.
I actually tried to kill myself a number of times, by drowing. I'd stick my head in a full bathtub and will myself not to breath, not to think. I'd stay like that until everything was swirling and screaming around me, and I'd lose my determination and come up for gasping breaths of air of which to fill my lungs. I hated my lungs then, I hated myself.
In my diary, I wrote, "Nick is the only thing keeping me alive."
How naive I was then. I wanted only to have friends, only to have true love, only to live happily ever after. Nick didn't care about me then...but in my imaginary, wonderful world, he secretly adored me. I hope I never get in that deep ever again, to have the issue of my life fall into the hands of someone who doesn't care.
Perhaps, though, it's good I had at least something. After all, it's what persuaded me to keep coming up for air.
I'm all better now, though. Well, maybe not completely better, but I'm on the road to recovery. I have a new group of friends now. I feel wanted, accepted. I avoid Chelsea at all costs, but this is much better than having her wrath inflicted on me...and really, I don't care what she thinks. Nick still doesn't care about me, and probably never will...but y'know, that's ok. He was inadvertantly my life support, and I'll silently thank him for that every day. But life support isn't something you want around with you forever. There's better things in life.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 7:12 PM


I just got back from volleyball. I ate some waffles. I drank some apple cider. I put off taking a shower and/or reading my assigned Mark Twain reading. My excuse is that I don't want the pages to get wet.
It's a sad day when even your problems that your excuses are based on don't make sense.
I hope I don't fumigate my poor parakeet with my BO. I'd feel bad. Really bad.
I would!

Fresh squeezed by melly at 3:40 PM