I've never actually woken up not remembering who or where I was until just now. And it seems the more I try to figure things out, I don't like it one bit.

Ready to go home. Or at least be away from here. I'm sick of these phoney people and their lies. Not like I'm any better, or like anyone from Nova is any better. But at least I'll be able to breathe.

And so I will wait.

Something will happen.

It always does.

[Line omitted]

I hate getting tests done because they always tell me that I'm fine or that I'm normal. But I don't feel normal, and I don't feel fine.

It's sort of funny how the minute one part of my life starts looking good and looks like it's shaping up, the other part goes straight to the gutter. There's no winning at all. I can't ask for both. If I have one, I can kiss the other good-bye. I hate it.

And just a quick question. How come all the real families on tv and in film show despise for in-laws? Do you get it? It's as if that's the only way to go on living. You get married or anything, and you move far far away from your parents. Pretty much elope. That's how it should have been in the first place.

God, you'd think Mom would want me to come home. Even more of a reason why I believe she's full of shit. Just like everyone else.

There's no question to why Norman Jean Roy is one of the top photographers in the business. Frequently taking pictures for magazines such as Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, Rolling Stone, and Details, he's probably one of my favorites. Not because he gets published in all this sophisticated magazines, but because he does and it's because he's talented. He's got a knack for creating something that's already been created and making it his own, which is, what I've learned, leads to success.





He's so bizarrely imaginative yet so real at the same time, you almost have to do a double take to see if what you're seeing is the real thing. It's funny to think that these are from today as opposed to from the 1960s or earlier. Not that Javier Bardem could ever pass as Jimmy Stewart and Scarlett for Grace. But he does a pretty damn good job.

After Escher: Gulf Sky and Water

My neighbor's dog died the other day. One of my favorite little guys running around here, even though he was too old to play around with the pups. He was a 14 year old version of Moose. I always wondered what Moose would be like when he got older, and seeing him made me feel like I was actually seeing an old Moose. It seems almost as if it's taking a toll on the whole building. But it'll be all right. Rest in Peace, little Pilot.

A friend of mine asked, "Every time I look at you/think about you now, I can't help but laugh. I can't imagine what it would be like to live the way you do. How is it that you can look in the mirror each day and not be disgusted with yourself? blows my mind."

Not about me, of course. But It's funny, because I could say the same thing about someone else. Not her though, of course. :)

I don't mean to be lazy or anything, or seem it. But I really do hate doing my own hair. Mostly because I can't. Haha.

"Nothing says ‘I love you’ more than a cup of freshly drawn blood. It’s very sweet.”

Been obsessing of skin-toned clothing, shoes, nail polish, and hair. I want it all.

My coworker Brian adores me. We share make-up tips, and he tells me he loves my face. He's quite a doll.

Oh! And in exchange for a plastic fork and change in quarters, the bartender at The Wave likes to tell me I'm beautiful. Apparently, people like my nose. How silly, it is though. Really, I feel like my nose is one of my far less pleasing features. Ah, but alas. A compliment is a compliment. Sorry, I couldn't legally accept your drinks on the house, but thank you for offering. And asking how old I was.

I really hate how when you take pictures on facebook it flips the image. It makes me feel like I'm posting phony pictures of myself. No, that shit ain't me sorry. That's my clone. Just some look alike. I don't know. How weird. On another note, I'm getting extremely into Breaking Bad. But I was bound to, of course. That's like asking anyone from Fairfax, if they watched Weeds.

Personally, I just fell in love with the idea of smashing your asshole, crackhead of a husband's head with an ATM machine for simply calling you a whore. Seems like something I would do, aside from the crystal and the tar. Oh and the idea of decapitating a man and putting his head on a desert tortoise because they call him "Tortuga." The writers and creators really think out of the box with this one. Makes me wish I hadn't let chemistry kick me in the ass. But oh well. I never would have made it as a veterinarian let alone a neurosurgeon. God, one day I will have a collection of brains bottled up in jars full of formaldehyde in my Bat Cave. As well as vintage taxidermy.



Aw, how cute. It almost looks like Kino!