To counter the horribly-overemotional drivel I've been writing about the past few days, I'll write a vapid entry, and hope it says nothing about how I currently feel.

First of all, damn October. The weather's gotten so cold all of a sudden. Damn winter and how it sneaks up. I fucking hate winter, and this will be my first year of driving in it every day. I seriously wish all snow would melt at New Year's. I saw frost on the ground this morning, and wanted to snuggle back into my white blankie in bed.

Second, I feel terribly guilty, and if she bothers to read this ever again, I would like to extend an apology to Tara. Even if she doesn't reply, I would like her to know that I don't hate her, I never did, and I'm sorry I made any assumptions.

I reeeeeeeally want some colour in my hair, but I've gotten so used to not maintaining it that I'm hesitant to force myself to break the habit. I've already gotten it in mind that I'm going to grow out the black to my natural brown. Physical appearance, "image," to me, is so not worth maintaining. I would have tons of piercings, tattoos, and wear fishnets and high boots and slashed-up shirts all the time, if I weren't so unmotivated.... But I like it. I like not caring how I look, aside from the occasional glance into the mirror, a half-serious "I look like shit," and a shrug when I realize that I really don't give a shit.

Ahh... the attitude of the middle-school me returns. I like who I was then, so much. I wore a ball cap when no other girls did, I didn't wear a bra when every other girl did, I detested Breaker High, I watched wrestling, I wore ripped jeans and dirty sweatshirts, never spoke, and hated everyone. I was awesome. Then I turned into a chick, fussing over my appearance, dyeing my hair, wearing low-cut tank tops and flare-leg pants and eyeliner and shiny spikes, and I feel like it's been fake.

No offense to everyone else - I mean only that I don't think I've been true to myself. I don't think I really give a shit about any of this exterior garbage. I liked my ears without holes, my hair when I could wash it in warm water, and damn it, I hate wearing bras and shaving my legs. Tee-hee. I'm a dirty feminist bull-dyke, at heart.

Perhaps I'm not being as vapid as I intended - but I am feeling pretty good, now. Making promises to oneself, resolving to change, can do that to a person. Having a little faith... in your ability to do something, anything, to make yourself a little happier, a little more comfortable.

Melissa loved my birthday present, a vine-style silver chain with three red roses and a dangling red gem. She put it on right away and wore it the rest of the day. Thank you, Joel, for helping me pick that out, from both of us.

Speaking of whom, he's really mad at me, I think. But there isn't going to be much I can do about that....

And speaking of making oneself comfortable, my head and stomach hurt I'm so hungry. Leaving, to have some lunch.