mymichele's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bill Cosby and being a total poser. I just got out of my Abnormal Psychology class. My teacher is a bitter old man. He's kinda like Bill Cosby, but he's like the old, mean, bitter version of Bill Cosby, you know? His kids all left, little Rudy (who I'll always remember as getting her period when they were talking about puncuation in class) is an adult now, and I think they had another kid but I don't know who that one is. Anyway, his kids are all gone and Mrs. Cosby divorced him and now he's teaching my Abnormal Psychology class. Last night I went to a community group with two of my friends. I kept saying I didn't want to join another one of these groups, because I was in one last year and I didn't feel it was right to try to recreate some of the good times and such that I had in that one. Plus, I feel like a poser. I'm not a Christian. I pray with the group and I feel teary eyed at church and I feel bad when I cuss at people on the street when I'm driving, but I'm still not a Chrisitan. I haven't "accepted God into my heart" and I don't know if I'll ever be ready to do that. My group last year understood that, mainly because in the middle of one the sessions last year I broke out crying and said I really wanted to be like them and be so accepting and loving like they were. But this year is different. I still feel like a poser and I'm a little uncomfortable. I mean, we're praying and I'm staring at the chick across the room from me because my lord, she's a fuckin hottie. I'm going to hell, yes I am. But I can't deny that last year's group changed my life. Before I met them, I was a poor desperate loser with no friends, and now my phone is ringing and people are coming by and I actually have things to tell BB about. He has told me in the past that I've become boring and I need to get more of a life. I know that's harsh, but that's one of the things I love about him. He's not afraid to be harsh when life is really calling for brutal honestly. Anyway, my friends know me and accept me. Well, partially. I don't think they really know me. They don't know that I'm bisexual, I know that, and I know if I ever told them they'd probably be shocked and probably have some kind of judgement for me, so, well, I'm just not going to tell them. I told my first roommate, my freshmen year, that I was bi one of the first weeks I had met her, but I just don't do that anymore. It's a part of me, but not a big part of me anymore. I used to spend hours on AOL trading pictures with people and looking up people who lived nearby, and trying to get them to meet me so I could get some. Needless to say, that wasn't a brilliant tactic, and I'm not doing that anymore. I don't know. Do I sound confused? I'm confused. Certain people in my life.. well, I think I've overestimated them. I thought things about them, and as time wears on, I was wrong. It's not tearing me apart or anything, but I just see that I was going to make the same mistakes I've made before and then get hurt the same way as in the past. I'm just glad I saw this before anything major happened. Things around here are trying to return to normal, but they aren't, really. Everything is being cancelled for the week, and I pretty much agree with that. We all need time to grieve. I still catch myself shedding a few tears when I see people's diary entries about the whole thing. I've decided I won't be updating when I go to BB's house for the weekend today. It's too much of a distraction when I go there. He's always asking me lately, "What are you doing on the computer for so long?" And I know it's none of his business, but I just feel better not doing it. So, sign my guestbook if you want, and read my story that I'm turning in today for my Creative Writing class, called "Saitia." It's an interesting story, really, I swear. Have a good week, diarylanders, and let's continue to pray for the families of this tragedy. 2:00 p.m. - September 13, 2001 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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