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2000-12-07 || 17:18:36 || awful evil cramps that make me hate boys all the more because they just don't know what it's like. having this steel trap inside you that is all rusty and hurts and bleeds bleeds bleeds. || ouch. cramps. ouch. i woke up at four this morning with such the excruciating ache. the kind that makes you cry and fold up into a ball and curse the evil nature of uteruses. i got up and went to the bathroom to get aspirin and sat on the edge of the bathtub for a while, trying to figure out if i needed to throw up or die. why is it that when you are gravely sick/hurting like mad you just want to die in the bathroom? i had a costa rica dream. my sister is still there and will be coming home in eleven days and it's been all over my subconscious: i am in costa rica with my dad i think to get my sister, or else we are just visiting. it is my dad's job to re-populate the jungle with tigers, and he is pulling baby tigers from the sea. in real life my dad was a fisherman for years and years and years, and he spent every day and night catching sandcrabs in the surf. my parents bought their first house with sandcrab money. so in my dream he is catching baby tigers with a sandcrab net, telling me to pluck the biggest ones and bring them onto shore. they were just like kittens, rows and rows of them, underwater. and i grabbed the ones i could and lay them on the sand. then i was waterskiing with my sister. we were pulled by a boat, holding onto large pillows being dragged across the water. the water was very clear and i could see down to the bottom, which was made of concrete. all kinds of paintings were drawn on the concrete and i could see frida kahlo's face. oh i miss her (kelly my sister, although i miss frida as well.). she is a wonderful wonderful girl. she is living on a farm right now. milking cows and jumping on the back of the milk truck to get into town everyday. speakin spanish like a madlady. finishing up her research on singing mice and giving dissertations. and i know i will cry and cry and cry when i get to see her. ouch. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |