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February 26, 2005 I don't feel I've deserved these recent suspicions of yours (they could, of course, not be so recent, but I've only just noticed them). Tonight I went to Friendly's with Lauren, Katie, and Deeder, as I told you I was going to do. Afterwards we listened to some music at Kiskadee, a place that has become popular with us recently. (Incidentally, the guy who was playing was perhaps the best guitar player I have ever witnessed in my entire life.) I forgot to page you when I got home, and you wondered if perhaps I had "gone to a party." I don't go to parties, Mom and Dad. I hate parties, I hate hearing about them, and I appreciate not being invited to them because they are stupid. Sometimes you accuse me of doing things without actually accusing me, but I just feel this all-knowing parent thing radiating off of you, like you know something about me for fact. So let me tell you a few things: the first and only time I ever had alcohol was the sip of wine I had at Pam's wedding two or three years ago and I spit it out immediately. I have no future plans to drink either, because it is gross and obnoxious and I actually hate when you do. Also, I have never done drugs and will never because they, too, are obnoxious and gross and illegal. Sometimes my friends and I joke about buying cigarettes just for the hell of it when we are 18, and Mother, you are not allowed to stop me then if I choose to because you don't think I know what you do on your nighttime dog walks? Hello. I know I have bloodshot eyes all the time, and I saw that look you gave me the other day, Mom, when I bought that bottle of Visine. I use Visine in the morning when I wake up because I get so much cuguhs in my eyes while I sleep that when I open them they fall in. (By the way, it's 11:11 right now, make a wish, I wish that you would trust me.) Plus, with eyes so large that people would be shooting from miles away because that's when they see the whites, I can't just play off bloodshottedness. It must be dealt with, with Visine. You keep telling me to "be good" when you drop me off somewhere. What kind of havoc could I cause at the mall? Here's what we do when we usually go there: we walk a few loops around, stopping in the usual stores (Newbury, H&M, PacSun, Claire's for kicks, Borders, and Debby's Petland) and then we either sit on a bench for hours or we sit in the comfy Borders chairs for hours. Then we talk about the people we hate and remind each other that we love each other and that we are all afraid of college and leaving home and I know some of us say otherwise but we really do love home and we don't want to leave. Then we come home and forget about the conversation. Sometimes I think, you know what, maybe they're just watching me to make sure I don't kill myself. Sleep easy knowing that I'm not going to, I am very much over that and would really just rather will myself to die in my sleep than try to make it come real quick. In case my honesty is not burning at your conscience, may I just remind you who I spend every waking moment with? LAUREN M-E. MURPHY? Do you know who she is? Do you know that she's probs (that's short for probably, get with the times) my best friend and many of our conversations center around homework and college and how will we make our parents proud and do something that they can brag about? Do you realize that we are top of our class and couldn't possibly have achieved this if we were fucking ourselves up with drinking and drugs like the rest of our grade? (!!!! I used a swear word, get over it.) Plus, remember that I do not have a job, and thus I have no money that is not in gift card form (except for when you provide me with some, for which I am very grateful), and thus where would I buy my drugs anyway? I'm an extremely uninteresting child, I'm afraid. I obsess over The Sims 2 and play it for several hours everyday; when I am online, I am mostly looking up Harry Potter news; I talk to the dog on a regular basis; I make up stories about our cats and wonder what person I know they would be if they were human; I am in the school marching and concert band and wish I was better at the instruments I play; I worry over what part I will get in the play; I worry over whether I am going to be a big embarrassment with a wasted future; I do my homework more diligently than I like to admit because it makes me feel cooler when I say that I have given up on school; I spend good portions of my days staring at myself in mirrors; I wear a lot of make-up but you can't tell and if you can then you don't say anything about it; I grieve over the fact that my hair does not absorb the smell of Garnier Fructis shampoo as I wish it would; I fear getting fat just like everyone else but I don't do anything about it; I think about how if I had money, I would buy everyone gifts, but since I can't bring myself to get a job, I will never be able to give people the things they deserve; sometimes I forget to put on deodorant and those are bad days; some days I think I am very popular and cool and other days I remember that I am just another big nothing with no life except for one filled with worry and apprehension. And by the way, I AM CONSTANTLY THINKING ABOUT COLLEGE so don't you DARE accuse me of not taking it seriously. In conclusion, I know you're doing your job as a parent, to make sure I am not doing anything wrong. But this, this whole stalking me online thing, it's not necessary and it makes me feel bad because what did I do to deserve this hawk eye? Yours, Molly S. Griffin, billionaire PS. I don't know what your fascination is with this new book I am reading, but here, I'll sum it up for you: it is a historical fiction taking place in the 1920s; it travels from Asia Minor to Detroit. There is incest but it's not even gross or inappropriate because Eugenides writes lyrically. For half the book, the narrator traces her family history up to her birth. I am at her birth; she is a hermaphrodite. I do not know what happens from here yet because I'm not finished. This is a Pulitzer Prize winning book. It is tasteful and very, very good. Stop being so freaking interested in it.
February 26, 2005
February 25, 2005 If you're going to go through my Internet files, here's a hint: don't leave the history folder open when you're through. Hurtfully yours, Molly S. Griffin
February 20, 2005 Katie and I immediately looked at each other in panic as if to say, WE KNOW.
February 19, 2005
February 17, 2005
February 15, 2005 [spoken: But we have to read Harry Potter aloud on the phones to each other. But we're hippies. But we'll still have phones. And we'll call each other from different rooms. Oh, I was under the impression that we're living in like, one big room. Oh, right.] I know few things as true as this. But where will this commune be, where will the one-room house be located, minus the loo which has to be a separate room. And btw, I don't care if hippies are dirty, I'm showering everyday. oh totally. Um, it'll have to be in Ireland probs, or like Vermont. Mad hippies in Vermont. and it's close to Maine so we'll have to pick up Sir John of Maine from Plymouth. Ohh you're TRUE. We might need to buy a DVD player for him so he can watch Anime all the live long day. We'll have a TV, anyway, cuz every day there will be 2 hours devoted to Ellen and Oprah. SO TRUE. ioh will probs watch it, too. But since they're both gentlemen (ioh will become one once he spends so much time with JP) they will respect our respect for Ellen + Oprah and remind us when it's on lest we forget to watch. Or we could just TiVo it.
February 13, 2005 I hate Valentine's day because it's not fair that I wrote a card for my dying grandpa and Dad dropped it between the car seat cushions, and so he never delivered it, and then Grandpa died right then and there on Valentine's day and never got my fucking card and that's not fair that I will have to remember that for the rest of my life when I'm supposed to love.
February 9, 2005 Also, cheers to me for getting my license, especially when I only learned how to back into a parking space about five minutes earlier, and especially since he made me parallel park and I have never done such a thing in my life. Cheers to Trooper Loring who, after I told him I have never parallel parked before, taught me how and told me I am a very smooth driver. Also, hats off to my mum, who I know reads this because I've seen the address in her computer at work, for making pleasant chat in the car instead of making me nervous. And sucks to everyone who believed me when I said I had no idea for when my test was scheduled. You've just been punk'd. Sucks to your auntie, too. This high will wear off in about an hour.
February 3, 2005 Not to mention this is the memorial week of Peter, and I have to say week because no one has any idea when he actually hit the floor, but he was probably lying there dead for days. The idea makes me want to throw up. I would but I can't because my throat is so tight and it's choking me. If you're loud enough, my house will produce echoes, so that means I am sobbing very loud.
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