I am a little kitten in a basket, please love me.
2004-03-19
11:57 p.m.

So it's the middle of the night. I couldn't sleep. I was obsessing over the friend saga that is only interesting to me. Amblus has been coaching me in standing up for myself on this one, so I read one of her emails on the subject a few times and then did it. Stood up for myself and my country (Japam. Get it? Pam? Even though I prefer Pamela?) and my dignity. I do need an explanation and an apology and assurance that friendship breaches of that magnitude (heart-ripping stomping upon etc etc) won't happen again. Or at least not this week.

The big eye-opener, though, was that my sweet, mild-mannered sister realized who I was talking about and called her a bitch. A bitch! Seriously, my sister is more likely to say "very mean girl" and then feel guilty about it, so this was a treat. She went on to use the word 'shit' in her ranting, so it was not only fun, but educational. I wasn't aware that my sister knew the word shit. If it hadn't been for her and Amblus, I would have just let the warm waves of rekindled without acknowledgement or apology friendship lap gently on my shores, and I always would have been vaguely hurt and sad in a little place in my brain and heart. Aw. I am a little kitten in a basket, please love me.

Anyway. Let's make fun of my journals from when I was angst-ridden! This blast from the past encouraged a hilarious romp through these embarassing tomes, and for you, the highlights.

In my opinion, my best recent discovery in journal excavation was the "Compliment Section." If this isn't totally obvious, this is where I squirreled away little bones that were thrown to me by various boys over the years. What cracks me up is that I was clearly memorizing these, keeping them stored in my head while making out (or, er, whatever) and then rushing home to scratch them down in my journal du month.

Here. One for you. By far the best, I think.

"You've just got these eyes. I don't even know." - Frank (not his real name), early October '95.

What? He doesn't even know! I've just got these eyes! Thank you, Frank. My favorite part is that I then detailed his tattoo, which was on his upper left thigh. So clearly, this excellent compliment (or assurance that I had these eyes, or maybe not, he wasn't sure) worked. Brilliant.

The compliment page isn't so long, really. I abandoned these journal projects abruptly and frequently, and plus not all compliments can be that great. And also there is the fact that I didn't get a lot, as I was somewhat shy with the boys during Journal Period.

I also kept a symbol coded list of boys that I got together with. (Oh, the overwhelming class.) The thing is, this list is incredibly helpful when it comes to looking people up on Friendster. Like, look! There's that total wank nugget that I went out with for 2 weeks who dumped me in a Taco Bell (express!)! And, according to his testimonials, he's still insufferable! Sweet.

My favorite entry, though, was "That Bosstones Roadie." Who I only kissed in the middle of a club, but still, the STREET CRED. And then he slipped me a piece of paper with the name of a porn flick he was in and his number "in case I liked the goods." I never did rent that. Damn.