Memories in Paraphrase

Why does that quote fill me with such foreboding that it chills me to the core like naught else might? I think it more just because of the fact, that well... My mother is a psychopath. End of story. Or was, I don't really know so much anymore. Not a psycho in so much that she's going to go on a rampage and kill people, more like she's going to severely damage the minds of her children. If she hasn't already. No need to rehash my mother's story here, I know she's derranged, but even so, I can't feel the sympathy, or the compassion in my mind to forgive her of her mental illness. What sort of person does thta make me, I wonder, seeing as that I appear to be so horrible that I know she's sick and I know she doesn't realize a lot of those things that she said... And still it's there, that I can't forgive her for it.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, Cory and I had a discussion of some sort or another to this degree before allen_chan picked me up to hang out the other day. (Which we did, and then watched Kill Bill on his PC (the dirty pirate) before dispersing. It was a pretty good movie for the most part, Gogo rocked of course. Nothing better than a Japanese schoolgirl with a modified morning star.) For whatever reason, my sister and I just started talking about our mother and the conversation would naturally? lead to these thoughts and contemplations regarding the woman. All these ideas and hindsighted thoughts on what she could've done better so where she ended up in life never really happened. For better or worse, my mother's a fruitloop and its her children that have to bear the brunt of that result of her divorce to my father. Not her fault, but the scariest part would have to be because she did major in psychology and sociology. I remember asking someone, be it nezumitoo or Michael or my therapist, I don't remember, I asked them how the fuck she could do all of those things that she had in the mental arena knowing what she did... No one ever had an answer, beyond the fact that she was deranged.

I don't hate my mother. I think I just pity her now more than anything else. For what she is, for what she could've been, for where she is in life... all those things that she wasted and isn't even aware that she is wasting them.

*Sighs.*

But anyhow, so today I finally decided to install my harddrive into the computer. It took some time to figure out how precisely to get the HD caddies out of the case... Prebuilt machine, a Dell, actually, and like a lot of those prebuilt machines, they think themselves so fancy for the way they put evertyhing together. You know what? It's a fucking pain in the ass, that's what it is. And only after some messing around did I decided to locate the manual for the machine and find out how to remove them. It was so easy after that. So after I get it all in there and close the case and everything (not to mention putting everything back together because I removed and unplugged a lot), I turn the machine back on, boot it up and get into Windows to finally touch my things.

To realize that I hadn't grabbed my harddrive, but the old, 3gb bitch that we had used as the system drive when we were running Win98SE. You'd've thought I would've looked better while I was still in California, but no, I hadn't and the cause of my error was simple lack of thought. When we'd been living in Seattle, my drive had sat atop the CD-ROM as the secondary master. When we moved to Cali and reformatted and put on Win2K, we switched my drive to being primary slave and the 3gb as secondary master, to sit on top the CD-ROM. It was just a matter of forgetting and the battle of nine months' rememberance over four.

So my harddrive, as well as my clothes and the books I bought while I was down in Cali, are still there and so far no reply to the email I sent Peter regarding my clothes and no reply to the phonecall I made today. Should I have expected different I don't really know.

I'm on the look out for a job right now, I have to make the rounds to start applying for places and hope to god I can get good and decent enough hours. We all know that Christmas is coming and Margo's always been rather ambitious during the holiday.

I've been getting used to my shorn locks as well as I can manage, it still feels as though there should be more hair than there is... And it would just take some time to get used to, of course. Even so, it makes me feel so odd to have this tiny pony tail where once I had this tail that fell to my waist. My hair is all the more healthy for this bold enterprise, I know, but that doesn't console my girlish vanity that was my hair. I'll learn to live with it, methinks, it is just going to take more time than I would've thought.

Unfortunately, that during the sparse week that I've been here, I've already felt the cold more keenly than I would've hoped. I don't remember Seattle being this cold, but then, when I was in Seattle, I was in an apartment and I had control of the heat of the place and I could jack it as high as I want. Here in Olympia, I'm not afforded that luxury and I've passed the days usually in socks, long pants or skirt and a sweatshirt. When I get a job, I'm going to have to pour some of that money into more sweatshirts and pants, I think. Otherwise, I'll freeze before winter is over. California spoiled me.

In almost as the same token, that encrouching loneliness has ebbed on me as well. I feel it just like I've been feeling the chill in the air and I'm none too happy with it. I'll survive, as I've told luemnus and pretty much anyone else. But that doesn't mean that I have to feel better for it. I almost realize that I'm going to end up retreating into myself again, forgoing to trust anyone in the wake of all of this upset. It's always been like that, with me, I believe, and it's the only option that really sounds so... well, it makes sense to me and that's better than anything else in this place. That in and of itself is comforting, though to what degree, I'll never known and I think I shouldn't question it.

Once again, I feel that need to start testing my friends, to see precisely how the limits of their affection for me have run... it's something rather sick and demented, I suppose, but it makes me wonder sometimes, who are my true friends and who aren't. And what I mean to them. But so far, none of that has come to pass and hopefully by my mere mention of it, it won't... Who knows? I've always been ecclectic in my moods.

Now this entry is just getting to be rambling as I patiently wait for this priview of the third Harry Potter movie to fully download. But that's alright, because I guess it's just those things that I need to purge and there is no other way for it to happen save for the journal. If there's a problem on the length to which I'm writing, people are always welcomed to scan and skip over it. I'm not tying anyone's hands to read my dribble.

Life is so cruel sometimes. I just wonder if I can bear it all and keep some semblance of the self that I loved before it was lain to waste by careless words. He (who isn't Peter but by this description should know -who- he is) had no regard for those things that he'd said which caused all those doubts in me to question myself and my beliefs... Sometimes I wonder what could drive a person to it... and sometimes I don't want to know what insecurities could do it. I despised it at the time, I still do. I was never happy with it and I would have to say that these five months following have been nothing more than an unstable foundation which crumbled to hardly anything. You can only try so long before you finally crack open your skull and bleed so much on the outside as you had been on the inside. Maybe I've just reached my point in that regard.

As for Peter? Who knows... I've never really said that I ever understood him completely.... but he is still, despite everything, that which I most adore. He's an asshole, and he's hurt me more than anyone else that I've known with the exception of my mother... and still I want to be there next to him. I love him. For good or evil, I love him and I always will.

And sadly, I wonder how much of that is a girl's romantic notions.