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Today - heck, the last week - has been remarkably crappy. My rat died last Friday, the boy I'm all stuck on got mad at me last Saturday, and today, as it started snowing, he sent me an email and let me know that, yep, he's still not speaking to me. My birthday is next Friday and it promises to suck. I've been an emotional basket case, and more than one person has theorized that it has lots to do with my lack of nicotine. Tonight, at the coffee house, it was all I could do to keep from crawling across the counter every time someone lit up in the smoking section. I found myself literally staring at cigarettes. I wanted to break things. Then I found out that my friend Jonas, who works at the coffee shop, just quit smoking three days ago. It didn't exactly quash my urges, or make me any less sad about this boy, but it did ease the feeling of "I must destroy something RIGHT NOW." Now tomorrow night I have to spend a good hour being cheerful and chatty with my Mom and Grandma. Can't wait to see how that turns out.

One remarkable thing, though: I was sitting writing in my journal and I wrote "I wish that Chris would show up" and right at that instant, he DID.

- Hope
1 week, 5 days, and 18 hours of HELL


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Nov. 14th, 2003 01:30 am (UTC)
Almost 2 weeks! WoooFreeekin'Hoo! Keep it up, Hopita! (Okay, you probably don't need the Greater Prague JV Cheerleading Squad whooping it up for you, but I do want to be encouraging.)

I forgot about all the feelings of *MUST KILL* *MUST MAIM* that other friends who've quit go through. It does subside. Really. Honestly.

Try not to kill Gramma when you see her. I seem to remember that that's a serious temptation even when hepped up on nicotine.

Good luck!
Nov. 14th, 2003 08:35 am (UTC)
I kinda like the idea of the Greater Prague JV Cheerleading Squad.

For some reason I'm stuck on the Neneh Cherry song "Somedays" right now. It's about hangovers, but for whatever reason, it's in my head right now, so I'll share:

(N. Cherry/C. McVey/G. Barlow)

Wake up without a blink
To an even pace where nothing moves
Except the pressure from a funky Saturday
Dropping like bricks on my head
Or over the milkyway
Starlit electric beams had only just touched me
I must have dreamt myself astray
The only milkyway I have is in the middle of the day

Somedays are better than somedays
Good Sundays are better than somedays
Today I'd even take a bad Monday
Cause this Sunday's a pure pressure inside of me

Danced till my feet were blue
To erase the thoughts I just remember you
Tears lost in the turn of the years
Return on days like this
Kissing in the sunrays
I knew that it was Sunday
Cause my memory's like blueprint in my head


(and the little rap says)
Give me grits and eggs give me ham and bacon
And a pancake with some maple syrup
Cause it is Sunday
(God knows what the dogs are saying)
We made it thru....maybe
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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