I hate looking at the old entry. New entry - today I pwned nubs, learned to play Across the Universe on guitar, and popped an excruciatingly painful pimple on the inside of my nose. It sucked really bad, but now I can blow my nose without excruciating pain. Also, a cute girl told me she liked my pictures. Oh my, it's sun rise! Goodnight internet.

Apparently I have to have one of these things to get into groups. Um, my life's boring, I live in a boring white suburb, go to a boring local college, and am gonna leave as soon as I can (next fall, hopefully). I'm bitter as fuck - who wants to read this!? Oh well, gotta do what I gotta do... I got a journal entry I typed out awhile ago, just cuz I felt like I ought keep it around, so years from now, I can remember what I was feeling in 2008, like my old high school journals. Hopefully this won't be as embarrassing - commence self-pity!!

I am pissed at the way my sister is being raised. Everyday I watch shit beamed into her unsuspecting face. My mother doesn't seem to mind, she's just glad they aren't making poop jokes (because as a Catholic, she ought to be ashamed of her bodily functions). I think a part of her, deep down, she knows how wrong it all is, how materialistic she's raising her daughter to be, but really can't help giving the kid what she wants. Maybe she thinks she'll figure out how full of shit our culture is later, like I did. But I was a goofy looking kid with no friends who thought everyone hated him, so I was bound to come across such ideas. Plus, I have my father's families genes in me, she actually my "half-sister", which are certainly different.

I feel out of place at family gatherings, like some sort of strange reminder of that guy that got my Mom pregnant. I tend to hide with my cousin Danny and disappear into complete adolescence. Occasionally Dan will throw out something absurd or stupid and I'll suddenly remember I'm 23 year old pseudo-intellectual artist who likes silent German movies and psycho-analyzes children's shows for their content. I forget how prude people are sometimes, that I'm in the suburbs, or am going to a school full of 18 year-old kids from a shitty city with a shitty education system. You bring up things, and people look at you weird, then I'm like "oh yeah... people are boring... forgot"

Apparently my great-grandfather was a smart guy, self educated, taught at Yale for awhile, painted, wrote poetry, and extremely wealthy from factories he started/owned/ran. He made cutlery, potato cutters and shit. I find them at flea markets. My relatives burned through most of his fortune within ten years. I vaguely remember him, he died when I was seven, but I liked him very much. His kids stuck him in a shitty old folks home after he willed away his money. We use to sneak him chocolates, and he'd always give me a few back, it was our little thing. He was 96 when he passed. I wish he was alive, maybe he could help me with my dream to run my own custom guitar shop. He could teach me about production and business and things. We'd talk about life and things. It'd be nice.

I could always sense something wasn't right with the whole picture. I could sense that my father never really belonged with my mothers family, or much of his own really. Only his brothers. They got into trouble a lot. I don't know about them much, but Dad was drinking beer, smoking weed and paying girls to take of their shirts in the woods by the age of 12. My Dad was thrown out of every school he got in, dropped out at 16, and through his own extreme skill with mechanics, craftyness, and loans from his mother, owned a business and house at 23. God, I'm 23.

At least I'm not an asshole. I can take credit in that. The guy is emotionally stunted, he will never admit he's wrong, to the point of literal delusion. He has no concept of family, or fatherhood, he treats me like a pet. His father died before I was born, I never have heard anything about him, other than he was an alcoholic. That all probably has a lot to do with it. I almost feel bad for him, but then I remember all the times he bullied me, used me, and shit on me. He's very good at it. Fuck him.

See, who the fuck wants to read all this self-pity bullshit. Boo-hoo, I don't have a connection with my family, fuck this! I'm putting on some Ramones. Rock-Rock-Rock! Rock-a-way Beach!!

Smile, smile, smile - robots!