we are only stars

Another thing to fall under the "only me" catagorey. I apparently now have a five year old stalker, at work. Some little boy called my extention today, absolutely convinced that he knew me. He wanted me to write his name down and when I asked if his daddy knew he was on the phone, he said yes. But, his mom didn't and I wasn't to tell her. He then also asked if he could call me again. And when I told him no, he told me he didn't like me. But, was going to tell his daddy that I was nice to him.

...

I'd clean forgotten about this, up until just now. My mind, the blank slate that it has frequently been, plucked it from the ether and deposited it into my lap. I was sitting in the overstuffed chair when his voice floated back to me, only me being the strange girl I am, I put a sinister spin onto everything. With the right inflection and intonation and a different backdrop, it would make a great scene in a movie. But, as I'm no director and have no designs on becoming one, this is just another film strip in my head that will never see the light of day. I'd write it as a story, but words wouldn't do it justice. It needs to be in a visual medium.

My eyes are burning again, as they have been doing more and more frequently. I don't know if it's the time of the year or the memories that come along with this time of the year. I've broken all my fingernails down and stripped them to the tips of my fingers.

And now, I sit here watching the lights on our wee tree flicker and scatter and fade and burn. Memories and images careen against the fragile walls of my skull. So many ghosts this season. More than usual, I would venture to say. I find dimes, constantly. Thee Pumpkin Girl told me of a Greek folk tale. Finding dimes is a sign of the dead trying to contact you. It's been happening to her, as well. But, who out of my veritable legion is trying to tap the phone? There's entirely too many of them to pinpoint it, nail it down and dissect their names.

'I still harbour so much resentment towards you', I said to him. His pointed face turned away from me in the dim and still light crashing in through a dusty window. 'For the things you did. The things you didn't do. All of it.' I blinked back scalding tears and pushed away from the table where we sat.

eyes lifted slowly for effect

My work station computer keeps crapping out on me and this is becoming most annoying. Grr. A nice thing, however, is that I'm getting out of work at 2. Hear that, Carroneous? 2! Get your dainties on, we're going knitting needle shopping!

Tonight's plans are still a bit up in the air. The Engineer wants to go out to the boonies to his aunt's house. We were supposed to stop by The Priest They Called Him's house, but now we're unsure if his family is still having a party. And I also want to get a hold of Stefanie, to see if she'd like to come visit my mother. Other than that, I plan on doing nothing but ingesting vast quantities of wine. ^_^

Christmas itself will be at my apartment, with my mother cooking dinner. God willing, I'll sleep late. Though, who knows?

Thursday, it has been decreed that we need to visit Philadelphia as Carrie has a burning desire to moon the Liberty Bell. Thee Pumpkin Girl shall be rounded up. Maybe we'll hit Tattooed Mom's, though I am mightily broke in the pocketeses. I also plan a round of peeing on TPG's leg. Just because I can.

BITCHES AIN'T NUTHIN' BUT TRICKS AN' HOEZ

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

In my computer system just now, I came across a loan file with the last name: "Slootmaker".

I choked on my tea and had to send myself to the bathroom for five minutes in an compose myself. This just will not do, I tell you.

and the bells were ringing out for Christmas day

Christmas eve. The right side of my mouse seems to be strangely further down then the left side. My eyes are all crossy from learning how to knit. And I'm tired to the point of dropping.

So, I sit here and think. I should be lying down or some other form of resting, much like what Carrie is doing right now. But, I can't do it. My brain won't shut down long enough to allow such an act.

grr.

I can't even quiet down enough to properly write. I give up.