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GODDAMN IT! Gaia get an undo button on this thing! My cat just hit a button and my entire, very long, very important to me, journal entry was just replaced with the letter "r".

And everything else I have to say right now is a cuss word. Every damn thing.


Edit:

Okay, so I posted that and I was suddenly very sad. Because I actually just wrote out a lot, and it really was kind of a reflection thing. But it's lost now because I'd never remember all of it. Besides, trying to rewrite something always turns into something else.

And it really did mean a lot to me. I was basically just reflecting on writing and my experence with it, and this book I just read.... and a lot. Just a lot of stuff. I feel like someone just wripped up a picture that I'd kept on my for weeks because I thougt it was appealing to the eye, and caught hold of some strong feeling in me. (not nessicarily a pretty, or buetiful picture, just one caring some qualitiy or trait that made me want to stare at it and study it.) And god I can't spell. It bugs me now because there isn't over several pageworths of a journal entry to cover up all my mispellings.

god damnit! I mean, something like this has happened before, but not like this. I mean, I talked about my day, said somethings, and it meant a lot, but this was kind of deeper than that. I don't know, maybe it wouldn't have seemed important to the reader, but sometimes I just write about myself, not what I've done but myself, and that's always worth more to me. You can look at my calender to see what I've been up to this month, but you can't look at it and see me. *bangs head on the desk* I can't even blame the bloody cat. I might be able to pin it on the dog, who scared the cat, who stepped on the mouse that somehow highlighted everything as I hit "r", but not really. It was no ones fault. And that just pisses me off. It wasn't even my fault. I can't even pin it on myself.

God damnit. I don't even want to rant about this! I was feeling happy! I was enjoying myself! I was writing something important! Now what? I continue and leave off everything that led up to it? I do my half-hearted best to explain some of what I wentover? It would lack the passion behind it. *bangs head again* I want someone to talk to right now. I mean, there isn't anybody around or that I can contact, but right now I really want to talk. It ******** sucks.

Do you know that I didn't cuss much in my hole journal entry? I think it's safe to say that I was at least finished with two pages, maybe more, and I hadn't cussed much at all. Cussing increases with frustration and anger and pain for me. It's how you can tell that even though I look just fine, I'm not. Or one of the ways. If I suddenly start shouting about something trivial that can also be a sign. Or if I bite your head off, or if something simple bothers me. (key note, this is not something simple. This bugs me because it's a serious screw up.) I have so many tells on when I'm angry.

Now I can't even enjoy myself. I was enjoying myself! I was having a good time! Looking forward to going off and doing the dishes! (I held back at least four cuss words in those few sentences.) I write in journals so I can keep what I say. I write because I want to remember, I want to know what I thought and felt twenty years from now. It matters to me, that's why I keep it. I'll remember a lot of what I do, but I won't remember just what I felt or exactly who I was. I know this because I don't remember. I really want to.

And now to top it off my mom's kind of kicking me off, and she's going to piss me off in like five seconds so I'm just going to get out of here. Jen needs to go to the store before she goes to sukurakan tomorrow, so I'll drive her there. *bangs head again* This really would have been a good time for things to just let up and go well. It really, really would have been a good time for things to go well.


second edit:

I just measured what I had written and I think it's safe to say that it was over at least three pages of typing. *sighs* I'm going to clean my room. I explained why I didn't want to before, how it would screw things up for what I wanted to write. But it really doesn't matter now, things just got pretty ******** up. (thought I'd leave that one in there, it was the first thought so I'll go with it.) And again, I really want someone to talk to. hell, type to. Communicate with? Maude's in Japan, Justin hardly says anything to me anymore, Scott bugs me because he just listens without much comment, as much as I love talking to Ian I just can't say everything to him, and David's a mixture of Ian and Scott. With perks of course, but still with unwanted traits.

I'm still writing because I don't want to go. I want to sit here and pretend that with enough writing I won't be frustrated. But now I've already voleenteered myself to drive Jen to Safeway, and promised mom the computer. I suppose I need to catch up on my book journal anyway.

But even after all of this I still want to write. You don't get the whole significance or meaning behind that because the explenation was erased, but yeah, I still want to. It's just... will it come easily? Will my flow be smashed? Will everything I write sound bitter and frustrated? I don't want that! I don't want to be that bitter, angry person who can't make things work! I want to go back and be happy!

Tomorrow I'll be in Seattle for the newpaper convention. With luck I'll finish my homework early and have time to write. The hotel room will be nice and clean and maybe I can throw a movie on in the background (laptop has a DVD player) for insperation as I write. Hopefully I'll work something out. Scratch that. I'll work something out. I always do.

One of these days I might try that approach where you say "I don't give a damn" and just let things stay ******** up.

But I doubt it.