AUGUST 23, 2003: SOMETHING-NESS
I�m feeling mighty oogly this morning, like something is out of place. Not an ominous threat that I experience most mornings (though that is more than likely due to my substantial debts to which I expect to find threatening notices in the mail each morning) but a feeling of, something-ness. It is cold and cloudy out of doors and I have every intention of going for a walk to get some movies soon, though I don�t think that is going to help in any manner. I think the reason that there is this feeling of something-ness is the dreams that I had last night. The first was of Mark, Missy's father. I dreamt that he came into Missy's life, and that made me so happy. He loved her like any father should. The second was a dream of apples. Yes, apples. I think that I want Mark in Missy'slife. I was discussing it with my mother the other day and the whole point of the matter is that I have to let her know about her father and be kind about him. I must not say anything derogatory about him and allow her to form her own decisions. I hope that she is smart enough to go to him when she turns 18 and just stands in front of him and says: "Look what you missed out on. Arsehole." That is the dream anyway. But until that day I must answer her questions if she asks with an air of indifference but honesty. If the DNA test comes back and Maverick is her father, which I sincerely hope not, I have to move. I cannot say anything nice about that childish drug fucked loser. So, until I figure out what is missing, cheers.

294 WORDS POSTED BY SAMANTHA AT 1134HR. COMMENT.

DRUGS, DRUGS, DRUGS
Drugs are an insidious part of the human culture. I was tempted to say a part of the modern culture, but that would be a lie. Drugs have always been around, and always will be. When I get down and out the idea of taking solace in a bottle of scotch is a tempting one, and I am lucky that I am able to resist it. A few years ago that was not the case, alcohol was the only thing that seemed to keep me going.
It isn�t a thing to be proud of. It is not something I should think of now with pleasure, though it may seem that, as there were many good times in those few years. The real problem is that I like to drink. I like a cold beer on a hot summer day, not just the effects but also the taste. I crave the taste of a scotch and cola as I do with a regular cola because it is a flavour that I like. And I like the feeling of being drunk. I enjoy losing all inhibitions and I think indulging in an occasional night out on the town is okay, so long as it does not become a regular occurrence, or a problem with your daily functioning.
I think that the same could be said for marijuana. I don�t mind if someone has a joint now and then, and I cannot deny that I have experimented in the past. I wish that I could say that I hadn�t, but I cannot. Then again if I had not tried it I could not argue with any form of dignity as everyone would use the �don�t knock it until you try it� excuse that they always do. Then again I don�t need to use heroin to know that it is a malignant drug that leeches the life from the user. I have seen it in people that I know very well. In fact I once heard that the rural town that I grew up in had the largest amount of heroin usage in rural Victoria, and I dare say it is true.
You may be wondering how I got onto the subject of drugs, and it is quiet simple. I just finished watching Traffic, which I hired mainly for the purpose of watching Benicio Del Toro, which for some reason made the film worthy in itself (normally I go for short skinny guys, but damn, is Benicio sexy!).
I cannot say that I think that the drug trade is as bad as that in Australia, as the ghettos of our country are generally well hidden, or so I assume. I have never had to take part in it and the only drug pushers that I really know are a granny and grandson team majoring in the distribution of marijuana, an AIDS riddles dyke who has been to jail numerous times and I believe should have been arrested again by now if everyone didn�t already think that she was going to dye.
There was also Maverick�s dealer with whom I had nothing to do, nor ever wanted to. He lives in the suburb that I now live in, though a mile or two down the way. I bypass his street on the way too and from town (which makes me realize that a small detour would take me past Mark�s parents� house) and is now generally respectable. A recent development of dero housing was completed to give the area a feel of decorum.
I know there must be the regular dealers and then there are the Hollywood dealers, the big mean of the trade who make their living making and dispensing these toxins, but you don�t generally see them around here. And do you know how I know there must be this archetype? All the ships that get hauled in with millions of dollars worth of drugs on board are why. But do you know what else, what crosses my mind every single time that I hear of one of these busts?

1,008 WORDS POSTED BY SAMANTHA AT 1951HR. COMMENT.

GIVE MY SKANY GIRLS AND I'LL WATCH
Ooooh! Thunder! Ooooh! The cold smell of a storm! Ooooh! I love winter!
I have to admit something- I am addicted to beauty pageants. If it has Miss in the title, I got to watch it. I think it may have something to do with the fact that I spend the entire time ragging on the competitors because they are so tamed that it is amusing. The sad part is, no one I want ever wins!
Today I watched Miss Teen America, yet I spent most of the time complaining that I had not once seen an Australian pageant (and the last time I saw one in person was during the shows in childhood. Perhaps my town got uglier?) and I found none of the girls attractive. So many of them looked uncomfortable holding their stomaches in and smiling their big teethy smiles. I wanted the girl in the racy red evening gown to win but she didn't make it into the top ten. Hell, I would have gone for anyone not wearing white or pastels!
I want to watch Miss Australia! Whine. Ooooh! The smell of cold weather.

191 WORDS POSTED BY SAMANTHA AT 2035HR. COMMENT.