Say good-bye to the sunday week.
Tuesday, 8/6/02 - 11:45 am.

Yeah, well...I'm over my "fuck, I hate myself" crisis. Is not exactly that I hate more like I hate parts of my personality, not the entire thing.

Also, I'm still asking Vic for a cigarette, but most likely, I'm not smoking. At least not this week. Call me vain, but I don't want to have yellow teeth. I spent my best childhood years going through a lot of pain, trying to get my teeth straight, something that nature and a pink pajama denied me. You see, I never sucked my thumb, I'd caress a piece of fabric out of my pink pajama, with my thumb and my index finger, while caressing the roof of my mouth with my tongue (urban legends say that it was pushing my teeth). It's delicious. Really.

I cut myself again yesterday. I wasn't pissed off anymore by the time I did it, but now cutting oneself is no taboo to me. And I could do it often, but people (I'm more concerned about my family), might suspect I have suicidal tendencies or something. I don't do it with razors, it's a piece of mirror. It's magic, let me tell you. I see the skin opening and starting to bleed...and I smile. It kind of hurts. But I'm not planning on commiting suicide. It's just something new to me.

Hey, I finally fixed my Aerosmith diary layout. I looked around Diaryland, looking over templates and getting ideas for colors and tables, and I went to several HTML help sites. Actually, I don't know how my layout came down to what it is now, I'm sure if I was asked to do it again, I wouldn't be able to. It's pure fluke. But I like it. I wanted the design based on the song Let the music do the talking, using a picture of the boys playing in a hotel bedroom. Since I'm the HTML retarded, I couldn't. It's a simple design, with my favorite lyrics to Combination, which pretty much (along with the layout itself) reflects my mood at the time I was working on it. *Simeon clears throat*....oh, yeah...Simeon helped me too.

(...with "moral support". Just say yes).

Today...well, the routine dissappeared. My family and I went out for breakfast. When I woke up I was kind of upset: for the first time in this endless sunday week I slept well...I was very, very, very comfortable. But I took a bath, waited for my sister and his son to arrive and we left for the restaurant, where we were meeting with my brother Carlos and his wife-like girlfriend, Maria (Alan was on call at the hospital, every three days he's got a 24 hour shift).

I was happy to go out of the house. Yesterday, I did spend the whole morning in my bedroom. It wasn't bad at all, I sang along the entire A Little South Of Sanity album. I hadn't listened to it in ages. Then I read diary of Anne Frank (awfully heartbreaking). But by noon, I was feeling sick and I had to get out. I was out of my room the entire afternoon (please, get me out of this place). Eventually, my thoughts ended up somewhere around Hotmail's inbox. I was wondering if Denv would write when he came back home.

No, up to the present time, he has not. Jerk.

Mom asked me if I'd like to go out somewhere. What about the movies? Don't you want us to take you to the movies?, she asked. We? No, no. She has to go with people her age, not with a couple of old people like us, my dad replied. Thank you! That's the point.

Speaking of people my age, we ran into Norman when we were at the restaurant. I was distracted, seeing some sort of ads technology (nothing out of this world, but I have the ability to be amused by dumb useless crap) and I only saw someone greeting my mom and sister. I turned around and I looked at him...he was wearing his aeropostale t-shirt. I mean "AERO-postale". Nothing related to Aerosmith really, but the word "aero" gets me going. Anyway...he greeted my whole family, everybody was joking, being very kind and shit. It's nice, my family is starting to meet my best friends and they like them all. Only wait until they meet Vic, they'll lock me up for life. No, just kidding...kind of. It depends. I already told him when you go my house: no smoking, no visible piercing, no punk-skater looks, ok? I don't care for those things, as I know he's not a teenage murderer but a real nice, caring person, but parental units first judge your friends by their looks. And his are very scary sometimes. You gotta love that individual.

The bird remains in the "nearer nest", and now with its mom. Yesterday, my mom found the other bird from the first nest, in the same spot where I'd found the first bird two days before. Only this time, we didn't find it on time, it was dead. My mom picked up the body...ants had eaten it alive. Later on, I looked out my window (during my "I'm not going out of my bedroom" phase) and the mom was already in the "nearer nest", feeding the first bird I'd found. What a way for nature to work things out. You see, the mom was taking care of the second bird (the one who died), in her own nest. Once it died, she moved into the "nearer nest" to take care of the offspring I found.

I have to go. I'm making something for Vic. Today is my last sunday...thank God! Actually, it doesn't feel as a sunday. We started out the day with something new and the wheather is not very hot. God bless routine changes. Now if only that damn kid wrote me...

Frog is sitting out in the garden, looking up. Just looking up. I often think she's a cousin of the voices in my head.

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