|After seeing the midnight showing of 'The Dark Knight', I am certain that it is now my favorite movie.|
|I've always said that my number one fear is growing old. I don't like old people; they depress me as much as the mentally challenged. I can't help but feel that damper of unhappiness taking over my feelings whenever someone frail and feeble is in the same room as I am. I don't like seeing people needing assistance from an inanimate object or another person.|
I don't want to grow old. I don't want to become frail and feeble. I don't want to become that person relying on another. I don't want to forget the names of people that I love. I don't want to have that risk of having an ailment. I don't want to be able to not take care of myself, to be helpless.
My mom, for the past two weeks, has been asking if I'd go and visit my grandmother. I declined to go only because I didn't want to see my grandmother as a vegetable.
When my mom called earlier this afternoon, telling me that my grandmother was in the hospital, she was crying and had a hard time telling me what was going on. For a second I almost thought my mom was going to tell me that my grandmother died. But no, she just gave me a debriefing and told me that everything was going to be fine.
I don't want to grow old because I don't want to be in the emergency room as a loved one is trying to convince themselves that everything is going to be okay when everything is clearly not. I don't want to put others in pain.
I've never experienced a death in the family.
I know it's coming.
It's inevitable to evade.
Even before all of this, I'd ask myself a question.
'Will you cry when your grandparents die?'
I'd respond to myself.
'I don't know. I'm not a family oriented person, I hardly make an effort to talk to them. I hate going off to visit them. If anything, I will cry of guilt that I didn't appreciate them as well as I should have. I will cry when I see my parents cry.'
Let me die when I'm seventy, I say.
Let me die happy and quietly.
Unless I get married to a gorgeous hunk of a man who gives me good sex.
Then eighty will be fine.
I hate Debbie Downers, too.
So, I'm sorry for this Debbie Downer entry.
I was flipping through channels about an hour ago.
I happened upon The National Geographic station.
There was a program about turtles on.
And after watching five minutes of this program about the evolution of turtles, I now think tortises are some of the ugliest creatures that walk this earth.
And here it begins.
Although I may not have had fun and was bored for the majority of the visit, I want you to know that I am very grateful to my aunt for the Paris trip. I say that because I have a slight fear that I may come off as ungrateful person once this entry is finished. That said, this will grow into a fairly long entry and I hope you've prepared yourself for a hopefully entertaining read.
( Read moreCollapse )
About my visit to Paris, I've got an entry lined up.
I'm too tired finish it.
Expect it tomorrow.
I don't get this fascination with Obama.
You effing liberals, get a brain.
I had trouble sleeping last night. Kept tossing and turning in my bed, my mind unable to clear itself of anything but the pure dread of having to experience a form of camp in a manner of hours. And let me tell you, after the first day of 'Art & Science in the Woods', I had a right to feel that anxiety last night.
This morning I awoke with a disdainful expression on my face. Waking at seven o'clock in the morning is and certainly hasn't been a part of my routine lately and it was trouble enough that I hardly slept a wink. Getting up at this hour only reminded me of school and that made everything a little bit worse.
I poked my mom awake and groggily asked her if she would be so kind as to make me a sack lunch while I readied myself. A sack lunch(that's a warning sign right there, if I ever saw one, that today was not going to be for eighteen year olds). When I finally left the house, I had two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and grapes crammed in my purse, along with a huge torpedo looking bottle of SmartWater. Oh, I'm afraid to mention that my mom actually had the gall to suggest I bring... a backpack.
You should have seen the look I gave her after that.
( Read moreCollapse )