Last night was the worst night of my entire life.


I went to Mike's house in Owosso, left at 10:30 and got there at 11:15 or so. Had a great time.

Went to leave.

Headlights didn't work anymore, had to hold the brights.

About 4 miles down M52, the check gauges light goes on. The temperature is 220 and rising. Cold air is streaming out my vents as I shiver holding the brights on.

Not a few minutes later, does the temperature gauge fly all the way up to 280.

I pull over and stop the car.

I hear and feel these gurgling sounds. Much like when your innards gurgle, rumble and vibrate.

After about 5 minutes or so, the car's gone back to normal. Resume Driving, go slower.

About 5 more minutes later, the coolant light and check gauge lights are on again. The gauge reads 220, and is slowly rising at a steady pace.

It's only a few more miles until the gas station. Just make it to the gas station.

The coolant light and check gauge light blink off and trade for the worst one of all: Service Engine Soon. The gauge has passed the red area of 280, and rested past the markings. Much like when you over-fill your gas tank.

I smell coolant.

Finally, the lights in the distance render hope, the gas station. Lucky me I have money on me. Coolant is 9 bucks and I'm assured it's the green stuff, not the red stuff.

I go out to the car, and it's steaming from under the hood.

The synopsis doesn't look good.

I respond with obscenities. (the 4-letter F-kind)

The coolant cap is hot to the touch, so, I don't touch it. Since it says, "DO NOT REMOVE WHEN HOT"

I imagine a torrent of green acid spraying all over my body and melting my skin off.

More obscenities.

I go inside and ask where the pay phones are.

By the order in which the tellers have seen me, asking where the coolant is, whether it's green or not, and now where the payphones are...they and the other customers assume something's wrong.

While I'm trying to call my sister at 5:00 am, a gentleman nervously asks me if I need help with my car. I gladly say yes, and we head to my car. He's armed with a wash cloth. I open the hood, and he looks strangely impressed. (c'mon, what century is this?) He gently unscrews the cap, and I hope to god he knows what he's doing (imagining his skin melting off). The coolant reaks. There's hardly any left, and the container's outsides are soaked in it.

He gladly fills my container with the appropriate amounts of water (past full) but full nonetheless. I appreciate his graciousness, and he replies with comments about not knowing these days whether to help someone or not because of what they may "assume". I thanked him again anyway.

Continue Driving.

Getting on the expressway, I was a little nerve-wracked, glancing at the gauge every 2 minutes, staring at the areas where engine lights may pop on, and how fast I was going. I went about 60-65 the entire way.

Until I got to 127.

Then I hit zero.

Merging from 69 to 127, I hit a patch of slush on the ramp.

I spun completely around, and slid down into a ditch.

I don't even remember putting the car in park, but I did, and got out of the car. (which was harder than it sounds considering the angle at which the car was.) I starting screaming fuck, and kicking the tires. Then I realized I have to like, get out of there. I go around to the other side of the car, traipsing through a foot of snow, and use my hands as shovels and try to dig out my buried car.

Great Idea.

Now I can't feel my hands.

I start over to the drivers side, and see people coming down the on-ramp, I wave my hands asking as if they can hear me, "Can anyone help me? Please?" Everyone drives by me for about 10 minutes.

I get back in the car and start to cry. My hands are shaking uncontrollably. Not even because they're cold, but because I'm freaking out. I decide that it could have been worse, and I'm lucky, to quit freaking out, and try and get some help.

I get out of the car.

Then, by my luck, a city salt truck comes down the ramp, as I'm waving my hands pleading for a good samaritan, the truck pulls over, and a man hops out.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, Kinda..." I say, shakily

I explain to him, the accident, how I ended up there.

He continues to ask me if I would like him to radio a Wrecker in to help me get my car out. I say I would appreciate that. He walks to his truck, I walk to my car. I wait for him to come back and tell me how long he thinks it will be, but he never comes, instead, he drives away.

I plead with the back of the truck, "Where are you going?@??@"

It's gone.

I start crying again. The car is freezing, my pantlegs are soaking wet, I can't feel my fingers or my toes. It's dark and windy out.

After starting the car a few times, and still getting nothing but cold air, I decide I have to get someone to let me use their cell phone so I can call my sister. It's 6:45 now.

I'm beginning to give up hope when a car pulls over, turns their flashers on, and I see a blue back-lit phone waving in the front seat. I walk up to the passenger side, and the window is down. A woman about 30 or so leans over and asks, "do you need help?"

I stutter and say yes, she says to me to get in, and warm up.

So I do.

I explain to her how I ended up in the ditch. Why I have to be home at 7:30 so I can take my sister to class, and that I have no one to call. She lets me use her phone to get a hold of my sister. I dread the answer. I knew that pain was coming in the way of a worried sister and an irresponsible one. I portraying the latter.

I got a new asshole.

The woman I was with told me her name...something with a "C"....she's my hero. She called her work and said she'd be late because she was helping me. A stranger, but someone she empathized with, as this sort of thing had happened to her before as well. She convinced me that the city worker surly had called someone and that they're on their way. She then assured me that she wouldn't leave until I was out of the ditch. People like this make my heart melt.

Shortly thereafter, the Wrecker man came, and pulled my car out of the ditch.

"Can you bill me?" I asked after the service was performed.

"No, I need to be paid right now." he said.

I replied with "I have sixteen dollars."

"You don't have a credit Card?" he asked.

"No."

"Hmm," he said

"Do you have a phone? A cell phone?" I asked him inquisitively, and positively fucking freezing.

"Yeaaaaah?"

"Can I call my parents? maybe they can pay you over the phone."

It was a long shot, but I had asked Beth to call mom and tell her what had happened when I talked to her on the woman's phone.

Everything turned out to be fine, my mom was gracious enough to pay the man over the phone, and not ask to be repaid. She and my sister were just glad I was alive. So was I, but driving home, I was absolutely paranoid, especially since the car would "shake and vibrate" due to snow packed to the underside of the car and tires. When I got home, my sister and I got into it. But rightfully so, I should have left a lot earlier than when I did. I'm lucky I actually had money on me, which I never do, and that people were nice enough to take time out of their days to help a stranger. I don't know what would have happened if it wasn't for them.

I wouldn't wish this experience on my worst enemy. Sounds terrible, but this is about the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I wouldn't mind not driving for quite some time. Fucking Snow.

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I haven't even visited anywhere west of Oklahoma. And as far as Canada, I have Toronto and Windsor under my belt. Not that vast expanse of cold french land they call Canada. Oi. So many places to go.

-Perfect- You're the perfect girlfriend. Which
means you're rare or that you cheated :P You're
the kind of chick that can hang out with your
boyfriend's friends and be silly. You don't
care about presents or about going to fancy
placed. Hell, just hang out. You're just happy
being around your boyfriend.


What Kind of Girlfriend Are You?
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How compatible with me are YOU?

My life as of late has been pretty strange. Christmas was enjoyable and exhausting, and my seemingly perfect relationship was blinded by lust, and ended quite suddenly. I was broken-hearted to hear that he never had any feelings for me, and I thought I was in love. I suppose these things happen for a reason, but it feels really shitty to learn new things about yourself and grow in an emotional manner. I have so many things running through my head, thinking about my life, what I really want for myself and what I need to do to achieve these things. I wrote in my diary about my cliche new years resolutions to enlighten, enrich and take care of myself emotionally and physically. These things I want require self-control and determination, those things which I lack, yet desperately want. I have no idea how to become determined, but I'm going to attempt it for the betterment of myself. It seems like it's taken a lifetime to realize that I need to respect myself. I've spent so much time respecting everyone else but me, that I've lost sight of myself and my goals. However, no one benefits from my goals and dreams but me. I want to know my purpose for being here, for existing. I used to think I was here only for the purpose of other people, but now I know this isn't true. There must be some kind of plan for me, I have no idea what it is, but I'm going to go with my gut reactions and try to find out why I'm here. I'm going to stop being so destructive to myself and do the things that make me happy instead for the motivations of other people's happiness. There is much more to life than living for other people. I've slowly discovered this through years of injuring myself and allowing myself to be injured. I'm through with thinking that there is no purpose to anything, there is no reason for me to be here. Even if being alive means that you have to suffer, it also means that you can experience joy. I've come to the conclusion that inside me is an 8-year-old child, with hope and wonder that drives me to know more, to question, and I think this is one of my most important attributes. The more I question the simplest things, like, why do bubbles in champagne just appear, streaming from the bottom of the glass? It makes me realize how much wonderment is in a single moment. The fact that you fingertips can feel the texture of a surface and interpret its depth, that you blink your eyes and breathe without thinking....so many things in a moment that should amaze you....I see all these things daily, and walk around amazed at so many things....there has to be a purpose for this...somewhere...I'll find it. For now I don't know what to do next, but keep on living and wondering about everything...I don't mean to sound cheesy, but this is how I feel.

Now, go and create something.

I have a job. A most beautiful place of employment for which I have met a very special boy-person, Stephen, with whom I am connected at the hip. He makes me happy, and when I'm not happy, he makes me feel better. He likes listening to what I have to say, and enjoys the little things that I find amusing. He and I ate half a cheesecake together while smoking and watching 'Narc.' He makes my day. I'm so happy. I'm getting all my school work done, and drawing more, which I am SO happy for. I haven't been this happy in a while. I am having money difficulties, but it's nothing Bethany and I can't work out. Stephen is thinking about moving in with me. YAY!!!!!

( Surveys are cool. )

( Survey Thing, woo! )

Everyone needs to listen to this song.

Darcy is explaining psychopathic stuff to me.

I went on a date that went very well.

My sister's trying to teach me Magic: the gathering.

I'm listening to Duran Duran.

What is all this?

It's been so long since I've cared about anything I said in here. I blame the elation of moving out, but since August, that excitement has since settled down to a simmer with the occasional peak of interest, and reality has set in. There are bills to pay, and I'm still without employment.

I've been feeling indescribable lately. It's like a conglomeration of simple feelings that wrap up and twist inside one another to become this entire different "super emotion", feeling more than one way at the same time. It's really a helpless feeling to be more than one emotion at a time because you have no idea where to start. If you're bored and happy, you don't know whether to go do something and be occupied, or continue to sit there, content, as opposed to going and doing something that might get you frustrated. I've felt determined, yet, un-motivated, where I want to finish or start something, but have no desire to begin. I've felt so curious I thought I might go insane, and so sad that I wanted to change everything about myself. I've been pissed off and horny at the same time (quit giggling), I've been shy, angry and loved all at the same time....and a million other combinations. It's like Kool Aid flavors....the cherry is totally different from the black cherry, the raspberry lemonaide is different than the strawberry lemonaide, wild berry is NOT berry burst, and there IS a difference between the purple berry one, and the blue berry one. I feel like I wanna be 8 years old again, at home sick with some horrible childhood ailment like, "My tummy hurts", and have soup, drink Sprite and watch cartoons while coloring all day.

For once, I'd like to feel one emotion at a time. Why every time that I'm happy, I have to be sad that it'll end? I'd like to be black or white, instead of some different shade of grey. I feel incomplete, like nothing really matters. I feel like how you feel after thinking, "What if there is no light at the end of the tunnel?" I feel blank, un-normal, devoid. This isn't right.

Happy birthday to me!