8:29 p.m. - December 20, 2001
you spiked my drink with a bored pill
So my mother came into the store today just as I hung up the phone from ordering takeout Chinese, in her purple fuzzy hat. I thought she was in Los Angeles. I said this aloud, to Mike; 'There's my mom; I thought she was in Los Angeles.' He looked at me like I'd lost it, like, 'aren't you supposed to know where your own mother is?' but it turns out she leaves tomorrow.
Anyway, she came to say goodbye to me, but she'd also brought in one of her co-workers, presumably for me to meet. By looking at her (the co-worker, I can't remember her name, was it Beth?), I could tell she'd been primed as hell. I never know exactly what my mother thinks of me; I know that she does think of me, but it seems to contradict itself day by day. I'm either an inconsiderate bitch who will turn out to be just like her father or I'm a sweet talented girl with a great sense of humour. Depends on the mood you catch her in. I shook Beth's hand, and the whole time I wondered what she had said. I've been bitched out by a few of my mother's friends and family for 'not appreciating her enough', I'd prefer not to repeat that experience. Beth just looked at me like she was surprised by what she saw. I don't know if it was a good surprise or what, but she seemed shocked about something. Maybe that I didn't call my mother a bitch every three seconds. Maybe that I towered over her. Maybe that I simply existed. I don't know.
One more day of school and I'm free. I took off sixth and seventh period today to eat lunch and go to Secondhand Tunes with Camille. It felt so nice I didn't really want to go back to school for my last two classes... but I wasn't going to waste perfectly good absences on 8th period where we were watching a movie and 9th period where we were having a party. Tough life, right?
In other notes, my mind is way better at pushing uncomfortble or painful things to the back of my brain that I previously thought it was. I used to think it wallows. Well, it wallows, but it only does it for a certain period of time before it gives up, smashes it down, and shoves it into a corner; whatever the thought may be. How I haven't seen him in forever, how I'm still not even halfway one with my senior year, how I get the nagging feeling that Dan With The Fuzzy Hair was being a little too overcomplimentary with my music. Well, he was, and it isn't, and I haven't. I just have to be pretty tired to remember.

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