i don't really know what i'm doing--with this journal, with my life, with anything. my mom has been passive aggressive and bitchy and weird about everything for the past several days. i've been trying to be nice and compliment her on everything i can think of--everything from her jewellery to the food she's decided to cook for dinner. but she keeps saying i sound "aggravated" and "like i want [her] to drop off the face of the planet." i don't know what else i can do. i don't know how to make her happy. i guess i never have.
when i went to mississippi, i bought books for the first time in a while. i got tad williams' war of the flowers, nick hornby's a long way down, and laura gave me her copy of american gods because she got it for, like, two dollars used or something. she says she's been trying to get rid of her books because she wants to buy more but doesn't have room for them. i've started war of the flowers and oh my god oh my god oh my god, i love tad williams. the prologue was a bit weird but dude--i love urban fantasy. i FUCKING. LOVE. urban fantasy. i just bought it because it was tad williams and i wanted something to read in the car on the way home from mississippi. IMAGINE MY DELIGHT WHEN I FOUND THAT IT WAS--wait for it--URBAN FANTASY.
tad williams is so good at writing people. i mean, like--real people. i don't know. and he's so good at spinning stories about things that could never in a million years happen except that maybe they could and therein lies the AWESOMEOSITY. i love him. love him! the otherland series, oh my god. ...i love him. okay, i am done talking about him now.
i'm excited about the nick hornby book, too. i loved about a boy and although i haven't read the book, i loooove the movie high fidelity. i am abusing italics in this post, like whoa.
random thought: i hate it when people spell "whoa" as "woah." it is ugly and stupid. KIND OF LIKE YOUR MAMA.
i reallyreallyreally want the next holly black book to come out. and i want cassie claire's first book to come out. I WANT EVERYTHING. most of all, i want to write my own book. and have book signings! and feel like i've accomplished something for the first time in my life.
school starts next monday and i don't want to go back.
i am so tired that i can't continue this without drifting into, like, motherfucking stream of consciousness or some shit. AND AS MUCH AS I LIKE FAULKNER (read: not at all), i don't think that would be very fun.
so. to bed i go!
EDIT -- i also bought season two of veronica mars while i was in mississippi--on the 19th, actually...and i thought it didn't even come out until today, the 22nd. i just kind of stared at it on the shelf in best buy for a few moments, not really understanding what was going on. laura was all, "is that...?"
to which i replied, "...i think it--OH MY GOD," and then snatched it off the shelf and squealed in delight. and that is my second use of the word "delight" in this post.
i'm going to bed this time...really.
today's the day i realised that i could be loved
it echoed through the park last night:
'he wasn't our son; he belonged to everyone.'
and this loss isn't good enough for sorrow or inspiration
it's such a loss for the good guys, afraid of this life
that it just is
'cause everybody
dies.