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Stream of consciousness.
Jan. 16th, 2002 08:13 pmSo today at work I got to have group with the 13-year-old girls. It's funny, I didn't like 13-year-old girls when I was one, and they didn't like me, but they like me now. Maybe it's because I'm older and alternative and therefore cool, or maybe I'm just a lot of fun. I don't know. I think I push the envelope in ways they wish they could, but junior high is such a time of conformity. All I know is that I don't understand them, but I adore them. They are great kids, very supportive of each other, very enthusiastic.
One of my girls told me that her 11-year-old brother is allowed to have pictures of girls in swimsuits on his walls, but her father won't let her hang up pictures of boys. She said it was sexist. I wholeheartedly agreed with her. It's a sad day when today's adolescents are fighting the same things they fought in the first wave.
I don't want to be a therapist forever. It's kind of fun, but it's not right for me. It just doesn't entirely fit, like slightly too small shoes. Therapy pinches. It's a lot easier, though, to say "I want to be a therapist" to my grandmother than "I want to be a superhero."
Mom still hasn't emailed me back. She complained when I was home that she didn't know anything about my life and I never talk to her. I told her she didn't really want to know. She said she did. When I got back here, I emailed her about New Years, Jennifer, and Christina. That was over a week ago. No reply. This is not surprising. Every time I've tried to tell this woman that I like girls, she's changed the subject. Four times in five years.
think spinning dizzy love confusion work work work school dreary apathy tired so very very tired phone calls in bed with the covers up and the lights down the girl art mystery wonder busy frantic airplane february wondering imagined? sigh sometimes thinking sucks.
I told my internship boss today that my life was great. He was amazed, he said, that after everything that happened, I would say I had a great life. He obviously doesn't know me well. :)
Tired. Slept at Binkie's. Couldn't sleep. No bedtime phone call. Dependent? Frightening.
Love.
One of my girls told me that her 11-year-old brother is allowed to have pictures of girls in swimsuits on his walls, but her father won't let her hang up pictures of boys. She said it was sexist. I wholeheartedly agreed with her. It's a sad day when today's adolescents are fighting the same things they fought in the first wave.
I don't want to be a therapist forever. It's kind of fun, but it's not right for me. It just doesn't entirely fit, like slightly too small shoes. Therapy pinches. It's a lot easier, though, to say "I want to be a therapist" to my grandmother than "I want to be a superhero."
Mom still hasn't emailed me back. She complained when I was home that she didn't know anything about my life and I never talk to her. I told her she didn't really want to know. She said she did. When I got back here, I emailed her about New Years, Jennifer, and Christina. That was over a week ago. No reply. This is not surprising. Every time I've tried to tell this woman that I like girls, she's changed the subject. Four times in five years.
think spinning dizzy love confusion work work work school dreary apathy tired so very very tired phone calls in bed with the covers up and the lights down the girl art mystery wonder busy frantic airplane february wondering imagined? sigh sometimes thinking sucks.
I told my internship boss today that my life was great. He was amazed, he said, that after everything that happened, I would say I had a great life. He obviously doesn't know me well. :)
Tired. Slept at Binkie's. Couldn't sleep. No bedtime phone call. Dependent? Frightening.
Love.
