Half Empty, Since 1998

dust*girl: july’97

Emily Mets. July 1st, 1997
dust*girl

july ’97

July 3 1997 – As soon as Marty suggested a cyber-diary I was ecstatic. I thought, wow, what a great chance to whine. Of course the thought that no one would visit my site crossed my mind, but those thoughts subsided as I though of how easily my life could be compared to a sitcom. *sigh* The summer so far has proved to be interesting, and to think that I thought it was going to be your average run-of-the-mill type deal. I was offered a job, and as expected, my mother hurled me into it and expected me to have as much enthusiasm as she did. How could anyone really expect an 18 year old girl to have enthusiasm for anything at 8:00 am? The first time I set foot in that house I knew I was getting too old for this, I wasn’t even sure that I got along with kids anymore and I soon found out that we had our differences. First day on the job he had sprayed the entire dining room with the garden hose, then proceeded to quiz me on world geography. When he was though with that and we were watching t.v. he threw clay at my head. I looked him straight in the eye and in as calm a voice as I could I questioned his actions. Then he cried and told me that we were getting along oh so well until I yelled at him. Of course I never really had. The night was just beginning and I still had yet to prove my skill as a good baby-sitter. Even when he ate the sugar coated marshmallow ice cream cones (the ones with the sugar filling) and drank cream soda (which he had previously spilled all over the kitchen floor) I didn’t bat an eye.I thought that night I had done considerably well, considering I’m known to have a bad temper sometimes. Ross (my boy) said that I’d have a nervous breakdown before the summer was through. I thought he was right, I was just relieved at the thought of having evenings and weekends off. So as it stands now, my social life is nil, but I could care less. there are only a select few of which I actually care about, Ross, Marty, Alessandra, Brian, and Narm. But when Ivona called me the other day I agreed to gout with her. Oh foolish me was suckered into going to freak-show. a wandering club that is right now at the Big- Bop. It sounds retarded, I’m sure. as much as I wanted to refuse I felt guilty as I stood her up for stoopid Correne, the retard. *argh* she makes me so mad! Spoiled brat comes to mind when I think about her; right now she’s living in an apartment by herself, paid for courtesy of Daddy dearest, and Daddy knows that she "doesn’t get along well in the real world, and so as long as I paint him a pretty picture once in a while he doesn’t care." So she does her drugs, fucks three guys at once, and thinks nothing of it. slut. When she said that to me I felt sick to my stomach, I couldn’t understand how could anyone be so dumb and naive.

Fat Tummy

3:20 p.m. – I’m on the subway to see Ivona. I hope she’s not in one of her crazy moods, I’m in no mood to slide in the mud in my underwear. I’m so broke, I hope I see Ross so he’ll give me money for dinner. I asked him to meet me down there, but I’m afraid I’ll miss him. These freaking subways are so slow…I want falafel, I haven’t had any falafels in a long time, *I want candy, I want candy* I wish I had a pair of earphones that worked, listening to 80’s music with only one ear is pretty annoying.

approx.. 4:00 p.m.- Ivona is late, as expected, and there is a lil baby birdie hopping around the outside patio of the second cup. I’m feeling bad for having no food for it. God I loathe this place, with any luck Narm or Ross will come around. I hate to sit alone. Then again, I can’t exactly say that I was expecting her precisely at 4:00, it’s just that I hate waiting, I’m a very impatient person, especially for chronically late persons, I wish I didn’t have to wait in this shit hole. The only reason I come down here is cos of the girls, and some of the guys. Sometimes I think that I’d rather be with a girl than a guy, but I like Ross a lot, it’s not as if I’m actually contemplating leaving Ross, I could never do that…I care for him way to much. I just wish that the granola-chewing-pot smokin-freak in the corner would stop playing that freaking guitar. it’s driving me insane.

approx. 12:20 am- I’m on my way to Osgoode and I’m incredibly drunk. I’m hoping Ross will be there to meet me, I’m not in the mood to go all the way home alone. I think coming out tonight was a good idea, then again I could just be saying that because I’m drunk. Ross is so cute and sweet. I love him. I’m crazy about him, I want him to be there waiting for me. He’s always late. they played "how soon is now" I’m happy.

approx. 2:10 am- still drunk. Ross met me and he came to my house for a while. we fooled around and he left about 5 mins. ago…I’m dreading having to get up. I’m so tired.

July 4- ugh. hangover. Miraculously I made it to work, and was on time. Felt pukish all day. Talked to Ross, he assured me that I’d feel worse on Sunday, as we have plans to go drinking. oh thrill! I ate today, I’m proud of myself I was supposed to go see Ivona but I’m too tired, all I wanna do is sleep. Maybe I’ll go tomorrow. Maybe not.

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