et puis
disclaimer: this is the life and times of meredith r. mistletoe. i'm making a slight attempt to disguise my identity and hide things that i write about and pretend i don't feel things i do. but if you read this and i don't know you read it, then you read it at your own risk. and you should let me know you're reading it... especially because a lot of the time things need clarifying or aren't quite true anymore or etc etc etc.

note: potential employers: please do not judge me on my diaryland. that's lame.

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2002.09.18 12:14 a.m.

my mum is getting old.
ortopedics inserts for her shoes.
braces for her arms are night.
it scares me that she's going to fall and break something.
it makes me angry that she's weak, comes out
as frustrating at her.
she fell when we were walking one night
with my aunt.
and it felt like just before
the other mum died, body breaking with cancer.
i found it hard to look at her, hard to
pick her up.
i can't be her mum yet, not for so
many years
i don't know if i'm going to be able to live to see my mum die.
i hate that i can see it now. that she's not so strong for me, so undefeatable.
winter's coming and i will shoe-skate up every road in sneakers and she will walk delicately (every winter she falls. slips. bruises.). and she'll yell at me to be carefull.

be carefull.

.

and people wonder why it's important to me to have my children when i'm younger.
i actually enjoyed oprah today. talking about the misconceptions and horrible downsides to oprah. how informative it was. feelings of not bonding with your baby, feeling trapped, like your life is over. bleeding nipples while you are breast feeding. feeling like you've been run over by a truck. it was very good. it's silly how much men seem to complain about their wifes loosing their sex drives. i'm not sure they'd be in the mood if they'd just had their nipples almost chewed off. ooo i'm such a feminist. oooo. it makes me think more and more about what a mighty fine man i'm going to need. also that i'm going to store up all this want of a baby for years until i'm at the perfect time in my life so that i can nourish and enjoy and love every minute of it. and have enough money not to worry. ever.

.

i've almost feeling like i'm close to pinpointing what is exactly wrong with everything. for me. and part of it is that i feel so incredibly left out. i don't even remember most of high school at this point. i don't remember what it feels like to sit in class for an hour. i would feel so out of place and looked down on (by myself even) if i came by even to get alisin or something.

i feel rotten about yadda too, like why am i still there? don't i have somewhere better to be? if i was a good actor i wouldn't even have time for it. let alone have been looking forward to it. and then i don't even get a fucking real part. i don't get a real part in a company, that, in a way, i look down on.
i hate myself so much these days. i haven't been in a play since parcel. and even then, before i signed on as director, i was only cast as the grandmother. with no lines. sound familiar? in all technicality (and truth), probably the least challenging role in the women's festival.

i can't believe i am considering going to film school next year.

fuck it. why won't anyone tell me what they think? why won't any of you just say: we don't think you're very good.

it wouldn't be that hard. just do it.

previously - and then

*oh random entry*

all the diarylands. - 2008.02.21
I move my head. - 2008.01.27
read the other one. - 2008.01.21
was Medium? - 2008-01-17
Or maybe I won't. - 2008.01.15

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