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I've noticed that before my period, I fall into these disturbing bouts of depression. During my period, I'm pretty much fine. After my period, which is right now, I get extremely angry. At everything. If I see someone wearing hideous socks, I'm likely to begin an explosive rant about the importance of selecting decent socks, during which I am likely to foam at the mouth and use an unnecessary amount of expletives. Today I threw a shirt hanger at my cat because she wouldn't stop meowing at me while I was trying to pee.

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Psychology Stuff.

I just finished a paper for AP Psych about personality. We're talking about the ego, the superego, Freud's insanely inaccurate theories about how personality is formed. Penis envy? Oedipus complex? For fuck's sake Freud, not everything has to do with aggression and sex. I'm more interested in Maslow's hierarchy of needs and Carl Rogers's more humanistic and practical approach to personality development.

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I've been giving a lot of thought on my career plan lately. I'd LOVE to major in creative writing, really gives me little wiggle room. I'm definitely going to pursue a career as an author, but it's time to be realistic. I might not sell well, or it may take me years to get published, or I may never get published at all. I need a steady source of income while I'm working on my novels. Unfortunately, there aren't many jobs you can get with a creative writing major, other than, of course, being a writer.

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Happy Single Awareness Day, everyone.

Valentine's Day is not a good holiday for single people. I spent my entire day daydreaming about what I would plan for that special someone today. But then I started thinking...why do couples wait until Valentine's to get romantic and lovey dovey? I'm the kind of girl who would do something mushy and special for my girlfriend WAY more than just once a year...So that's why I think this holiday is just bullshit, just another way for florists and Russell Stover to cash in on roses and cheap half-priced chocolates. Gag.

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Important News.

I came out to my mom yesterday. She's suspected that I've been questioning my identity for awhile, she's just been too scared to say anything to me. She didn't want me to get mad at her for bringing it up. Ultimate irony, because I didn't say anything because I didn't want HER getting mad at ME. So for the past few months it's been the metaphorical elephant in the room.

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Some random facts about myself.

First and foremost, I'll be sending Brittany a text tonight, since it's been two days since we've talked. I'm stuck between two possible messages: The really friendly "Heya Brittany! How's it going?" Or the specific question: "So, random question because I'm curious: what are some of your favorite bands?" I mean, the first one would allow for a broader conversation, but it's also a bit lame. And it would give her an opportunity to give a short answer like "Good" and the conversation immediately dies. Which is better?

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Best. Night. EVER.

I am so happy right now you people have no idea. Amber texted Brittany and gave her my number, and THEN SHE TEXTED ME. BRITTANY. TEXTED. ME. And she was so cool beans about it, and we just had a nice conversation. She was so talkative and funny. We talked about her college interview, my job, just nice things. Our talk was a bit shorter than I would have liked...I'm pretty sure she fell asleep in the middle of our conversation. But it was 2 in the morning, so I don't blame her.

But there's more!

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A Random String of Recent Events.

I've dealt with an onslaught of homophobic comments that seem to have come from nowhere. Just all of the sudden BAM! Ignorance everywhere. My grandma said that she won't watch Ellen's show because of her "lifestyle choices." My little sister's friend said she hates lesbians cuz they're gross and shit. And when I went out to eat with a big group of friends (my first social outing in weeks, by the way), they were talking about my Chemistry teacher being a lesbian and homophobic comments were said. I mean damn. Why is it that all of the sudden people around me are showing intense homophobia?

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I had to write this journal twice.

A teacher stapling a McDonald's application to a student's failed test. Right or wrong? Just curious.

You know what name I like? Margo. I'm not sure why. It's an old lady name, yet it somehow manages to be awesome. I think I'll name one of my characters Margo.

Have you ever noticed how MTV (which stands for music TV, I think) doesn't even show music videos anymore? It used to show some pretty freakin' awesome rock music videos. What the hell is this? When did this change?

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Need some opinions about things.

1) I saw yesterday that one of my friends had written the words "gay pride" on her cheeks and it made me mad. Because she's not gay, because she can't even begin to understand what it's like to be gay, because she can write that on her face shamelessly and I never could, because she probably just did it for attention...I dunno. I don't really know what I'd think if a straight person advertised gay pride. Depends on their intentions. Maybe I've no right to be irked with her, maybe she was being sincere.

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Eh. More stuff.

My dad wrecked his car today while I was in school. He was driving drunk and flipped his car over in a ditch full of water. He's all right, he was in the hospital for a little while, but his injuries were minor. He was charged with DUI and his license was suspended. His accident will be in tomorrow's newspaper and is already online. It may even be on the local news.

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Eh. Stuff.

I seem to have fought off some of my depression. Feeling a bit better. Life continues running its circle. I've continued writing poetry, and I've really stepped up as far as poetic maturity goes. Of course, others could read my poems and laugh and find them overdone or pretentious, but I write for myself. I'm putting the finishing touches on my second poem and my head is full of ideas for others. I think poets can only be successful when they're miserable. Depression breeds art, I suppose.


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Another essay.

I really don't feel like writing journals about my life right now. If I did, I'd be complaining about the same shit, because nothing seems to be changing. Nothing's really going my way (whine, gripe, complain. Ugh. I annoy myself). I could make change if I had the courage to, but I don't. I've recently come to the realization that I don't have a best friend, that she never existed to begin with. She's an emotional whore, not a sexual whore. She makes everyone feel like they're the center of her world and then puts them on her shelf until she needs them.

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My definition essay.

So for a recent assignment in AP English, I wrote an essay describing the word orientation, which is so amazingly ironic. Basically our assignment was to explain society's definition for a word, and then explain what the actual definition is, at least from our perspective. I didn't come out in a straightforward way in the essay (I didn't think it would improve the essay in any way and it would be a distraction from the topic), although I really wanted to. So here it is. My definition essay for the word orientation.

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I'm getting back into poetry.

Damn. I was going to post an essay I wrote for AP English, but that's on my account at school, not on my laptop's hard drive. Neither is my editorial about technology for the school paper. I'll get those tomorrow and post them later. So here's the first two parts of a poem I've been working on. I took a reallyyy long break from poetry, but recently I've started writing it again. So here it is. Honest opinions are much appreciated.

Cycle I: Scraped Knees and Freedom

I was born in another world
One that was limitless, yet confined
By my ignorance of evil,

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