Not Always The Same.

March 18, 2003 4:40 p.m.

Meaningful music always makes me get into deep thought. Well as I was listening to my CD�s I started contemplating all the things I wanted to change about myself. I figured at first, I�d come up with a few things. And I came up with 14. I must really subconsciously dislike myself. It has to be something. Well here is what I came up with.

� I want to be more out going. It�s not healthy to be as unmotivated as I have been.
� I want to learn the rest of the sign language, language.
� I want to be more spiritual, not just for a �crutch�.
� I want to find peace with myself.
� I want to be nicer to my sister, I am so mean to her, it needs to change.
� I want to stop being so trusting, it has gotten me nothing but knives in my back.
� I want my hair to grow out� grrr�grow!!
� I want to stop doing this thing with my nose where I am constantly twitching it, it�s extremely annoying.
� I want to be skinnier! Damn, big girls get no credit. And that�s putting it in a nice way. Roseanne doesn�t count.
� I want to have more control over my heart, I�m tired of being hurt.
� I want to learn to slow dance, seriously, I can�t do it.
� I want smaller boobs! See I tried to stay away from appearance but it didn�t work.
� I want to not be so easily embarrassed. I won�t wear my glasses, when I need to�
� I want to be more open with my feelings; but that�d contradict my whole trusting thing.

I hopefully will be able to do as I wrote. And I�ll cross them off as I go. As I was listening to my many, many love songs, I was thinking how many songs aren�t written about love. I couldn�t think of one, except �round here� by Counting Crows, and even that sounds like there more to the lyrics then just what is sung. I�m starting to believe that this �love� thing is a myth, and is highly over rated; like most talked about things. Someone prove me wrong!? My dream man maybe? I don�t see that happening.

I didn�t go to the funeral. I couldn�t. The burial was over 50 miles away, I would�ve gone to the funeral part, but there is no way I could�ve lasted at the burial. I would�ve cried everyone a river. So I stayed home, and I sent my condolences to Mildred (bill�s wife), along with a dozen red roses for bill. Now I am officially broke. I feel bad for not attending, but it�s something I�ll quickly get over because Bill knows that I cared for him. That�s all that is needed.