What's worse than being sick? Your MOTHER being sick. It's a fate that I don't wish upon anyone; although I'm sure many people have experienced this crazed phenomenon (hopefully unscathed!).

My mother isn't really sick, but is suffering from pain-in-the-ass syndrome. No, for once I am not the cause. She has a bad sciatic nerve that is relentlessly kicking her ass.

My mother is crabby and cranky and a whole bunch of other C words, I'm sure, when she is ill. It's like her pain travels to her northern hemisphere and resides just on the tip of her tongue waiting for unsuspecting passers-by (Me!) to do, or at least feign doing, something wrong in the hopes of releasing tension. I almost want to pass her a razor and hook her up with cutting.

She'll live. I'll live, if she hasn't depreciated me to the size of a pea by the time this 'illness' is over!

how much of a loser is she?

This weekend I had enough time (mass amounts!!) to rifle through old diary entries from my previous diaries that I have held here at Diaryland. I simultaneously laughed and cried and was pissed off that I wrote that and didn't fix that typo and what was I thinking when I titled that section THAT? Such an idiot!

I've come to the conclusion that I haven't grown one bit in the last 2-3 years and maybe that's okay. Every now and then I get into a whimsical mood where I wish to feed my brain with old snippets of writing which, at the time, I deemed genius. I tend to snicker and guffaw once I soak in these "genius" words of mine and realize what a dork I was back then. Back then can mean anywhere from yesterday to 3-4 years ago. However, as I stated above, I haven't really changed in my writing at all. Well, no, that's not totally true. I have back-pedaled. I am slightly less the sarcastic ingénue I thought I was, instead I now hold the award for the most dull words ever slapped together in a sentence, I'm sure.

Yet, however, of course, I'm sure

My words are my words and I cannot apologize anymore for the fact that sometimes when I think I am being creative and fresh can instead be understood as stupidity.

does water really help?

I think about J once a day now. And the thought that plagues my brain each day is "will I see him today?" because we live so near each other. Fortunately I have not run into him and for this I am thankful. I'm sure, with writing this, I have jinxed myself and I will most likely run into him within mere hours thus prompting me to update this diary with said fateful meeting and you will have no choice but to think I have made this up when in fact I haven't. It's just my dumb luck.

I've concluded that I don't have bad luck, nor do I have good luck. No, I have dumb luck. The dumbest of all, almost bordering on stupid.

In other news, I have totally fallen in love again and I am sorry to say it might not last. I'm not sure it will. I am doing everything in my power to keep this flame going, so as it doesn't start dwindling down to an ember like it has in the past.

Yes, I have fallen in love with writing again, in case you haven't noticed my frequent updating of this diary. I am proud and very happy to have this newfound (oldfound) love of mine surface and take shape in the form of long-winded diary entries, and I'm sure you are so very happy with this as well.

Ha.