Frustration and Reiteration

I feel:: annoyed
What song is on a loop in my head right now:: Tori Amos~Icicle

I have been trying to study Chps 1 and 2 for my Sensation and Perception class tomorrow morning. I've been trying to do this on and off all day. I feel overwhelmed with all of the physics and biology involved. I managed to muddle through Chp 1, make some important underlines regarding definitions and such, but I haven't taken any notes on it yet. I've looked at the pictures and read the captions under them in Chp 2, but haven't actually read it yet. I'm frustrated that I can't concentrate. I want to go out somewhere. I don't care where. Just anywhere, but I can't because I need to save my gas because I have no money and dad only has like $50 in his checking account until the first of the month. I have cabin fever. There is so much that I could be doing right now-like laundry-but I just don't want to do it. I feel like throwing a temper tantrum and being just generally childish. On top of all of this, I have quite a large and ridiculous sweet craving right this minute. It's one of those kinds of cravings that makes you want to knock people down if they block you in any way from procuring whatever it is that you want. It's amazing to me that I can sit and study Scripture for four solid hours without taking a break, yet I can't study Sensation and Perception for one hour without getting distracted. I shouldn't be complaining. I know I shouldn't. I'm in school this semester by the skin of my teeth and I should be thankful for that. I was yesterday. Today, I'm just cranky. Ungrateful wench, aren't I?

I had a dream this afternoon that someone was taking pictures of me either nude or partially nude. In my dream, I was about 12 or so. I don't know if this is something that really happened,i.e. one of the things Daddyboy did to me, or if it's just a bad dream. Maybe that's why I'm so restless. I don't know. It's so hard to tell because I don't have any really solid memories from the time I was a toddler until I was about 14. I think that's the year that Daddyboy got cancer and his molestation of me stopped simply because he physically couldn't. He couldn't even get up to go to the bathroom, much less do anything else. He had a huge brain tumor that, by the time the doctors discovered it, had mestastesized and had grown down the entire length of his spine. The human part of me, the child and preteen that had to endure his awful attentions says in my head, "You reap what you sow. That sick fuck deserved what he got and if there was any justice he'd get more." The part of me that loves God says that I should forgive him because Christ forgave me. Because Christ came to live, die and resurrect for everyone, not just the good people. For the murderers, child molesters, rapists, serial killers.....everyone. The thought that God could love someone like my grandfather is totally beyond my comprehension. (I guess it's a good thing I'm not God. There would be much punishment meted out.) I don't know if I can forgive him just yet. I know it's been a long time since he died and since all of that happened, but it's still with me just like it happened a moment ago.

Ok, y'all have heard this song and dance from me before, so I'll just shut up now. I should come down off the bloody cross, use the wood to build a bridge and get over it. Right? Or conversely, I could mask my pain with humor. I'm just so tired of pretending to be ok when I'm not. I absolutely cannot stand the greeting, "Hi. How are you?" with the response, "Fine. How are you?" Sometimes, when people say that to me, I want to grab them and scream at them until they can feel my pain. Until they understand why it's so inane to go around asking people how they are when you really don't care in the first place, or even want to know in the second.


EDIT: I just realized-just this second-that the reason I want sweets so badly is probably to soothe myself. Whenever bad things happened to me as a child, I would get food and told that I should dry my tears. Whenever my grandmother would find my grandfather with me, she would take me into her kitchen, fix me a bowl of vanilla ice cream with Bosco sauce (Bosco sauce is chocolate sauce) on top, sit me at the table and tell me to eat my ice cream and to stop crying. Muna, the great facilitator.

This probably explains why I like ice cream and chocolate so much, even to the point of preferring it over regular food. Well, you guys have just been privvy to the emergence of one of my repressed memories. Do you feel special yet? I don't.


EDIT II: I went out for coffee with Sally and Tanya. I couldn't stand myself sitting here and bitching about everything. After coffee, we walked around Wal-Mart for a couple of hours, tried on shoes, acted like geeks in the hat isle, and found a man with camel toe in the music department. Much fun was had. When I got home, I discovered that the cats had pulled down my curtains in my room about halfway, knocked over a stack of books and peed on the plastic liner that I put underneath the litter box. I guess their sensibilities are just too delicate. Dad left the joyous job of cleaning up the cat pee for me. Thanks Dad.