2003-04-28 - 11:32 a.m.

Do you know I find the light blue background that shows up when I type these entries really annoying.

It's all pastels everywhere around me and very little of what I have to say can really be explored while I'm surrounded by all of this calming blue.

I didn't start out wanting to talk about that. I started out wanting to talk about this weekend but really.

I can't get into a very thinky place with all of this light blue staring at me.

I want to write it in the color you'll see it. I like it in that color, it's like a dark little room where I can hide and get quiet and think.

These writing pages are all open and airy and welcomey and that is NOT conducive to spilling your soul.

They should make it more womb like, maybe if there was a whoosh thunk kind of heart beat sound in here.

No, let's no go to the beating heart sound. Let's not take it there.

Like we have a choice. We're going where we're going.

It's difficult to sleep now, difficult to focus without being able to hear his heart beat, hear his breathing.

I find it strange the things that set me off. It's not the stuff I thought would.

Do you know what I resent most about the arm candy? I resent that the arm candy has no f'ing clue who he is. Honestly, I bet friends of mine who have never met him but have just listened to me talk about him know more about him than she does. How is that fair? (Shut up, I know life isn't fair, this isn't about life or being realistic or finding truth, this is about me and how I feel).

Where does the arm candy get off spending time with him when she knows NOTHING about who he is or where he's been or even where he's going?

She's an EMBRYO for fuck's sake.

Merry Death. That's what Taj calls her. I like that alot. I mean, I hate that Taj doesn't like her on some level because I love Taj and I want Taj to be happy and comfortable with things, but then, on the same level, she doesn't need to be happy with her dad's...love life, I don't want to use that term for the Arm Candy.

You see my point though, Nick can't pick the women in his wife to make Taj happy so it's sort of tough nuts that Taj doesn't like her, and y'know I have to enjoy the fact that Taj likes me better but at the same time ...oh forget it, you all know what I'm trying to say.

Here's what I hate about this diary. I hate that Wendi already knows most of what I'm saying here so I'm boring her to tears and that some of what I want to say Taj may not want me to say because it's stuff she said to me and not to her dad and her dad will read this. I hate that there are SO many things that I really need to talk about here but my hands are tied because this person or that person may not be fully in this other person's loop and I can't let Yag out of the Bag.

It's just not productive. It's not what a diary should be for is it? To have to sidestep stuff like the chocolate covered cherries on the floor?

This entry was going to be about how difficult it was to miss Nick this weekend. It went terribly terribly astray.

Ass tray. Jeff and I are the only two peole who know why that's funny and I can't find Jeff.

Someone find Jeff for me?

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