I've been seriously considering Phil's idea for mass wireless power. The only troubles, to me, would be federal permission. They'd want it heavily regulated, since the rays would most assuredly cause cancer. The exact technology to convert electric pulses to transmittable microwaves [the only practical method I can think of] and then back again is top secret.

I've done some preliminary research, and it's possible. Also, with the leaps and bounds in nanotech, it would be possible to design tiny transmitters/recievers. Such small apperati would make it feasible for use on cell phones, laptop, etc. There'd be no way for Phil or myself to make this fly without substantial government assistance, or a buyout from a major cell phone provider. It would be infinitely easier for them to add a simple transmitter to all of their infrastructure, than for us to build our own.

Also, on the topic of Sam and Phil, they're really being assholes lately. I'm sorry that I can't get over Mike so quickly. Get over that, your supposed to be there to support me. I don't even bring him up anymore... you guys do. Then you continually mock and ridicule me. It's ridiculous.

If you don't want to talk about him, stop asking me questions about him. Stop making comments about him, or about me liking him.

I'm sorry I can't just drop him. Do you think I want to feel this way? I have a portion of the mental conception of my heart ripped from its place. It hurts. It's a hurt that I'm pretty sure only Phil knows. I don't know why he is acting the way he is. And, Sam, lately. I just can't stand her. She's getting more and more selfish everyday; or so it seems. Everything she says or does has her advancement in mind. But, being the master conversationalist that she is, she contorts things so that Phil and I feel like we're wrong for confronting her. I can't speak for Phil, but that's how I feel.

Back to the Mike thing. It's confusing, and I hate it. I absolutely hate the feelings that I have. It seems more and more that I just want to be over him. I gave him a place in my heart, as he did with me. The only difference is that he still has mine, and he gave his away. That hurts. Bottom line: it hurts enough as it is, and I don't need you two, my best friends, being assholes about this entire thing. If you need to know all about my finances, you should understand when to draw the line for laughs at my expense. Especially in a situation like this, when it hurts even more.

On top of that, I know that they are just going to be copying and pasting this back and forth to each other, laughing... commenting. They might even make a movie on Phil's new camera. I just grow more and more resentful as they laugh at my pain. Then, they wonder why I get angry.

If you're un-receptive to the fact that I'm getting angry, which I have clearly voiced, and you tell me that you're my best friend, issues rise. I've articulated my point as best as I can, and if you can't understand that, the problem lies with you.

In the words of the late Mr. Rodney Dangerfield, "No respect." That's just how I feel. They don't respect me or anything I say or do. I feel like they keep me around just for laughs.

I'm not going to say how I feel about Mike. Everyone already knows, and saying things a hundred times in a hundred different ways does not ensure that I get my point accross. I've said it enough. I know it, I'm pretty sure he knows it, and everyone who reads this knows it. It's confusing, period; the end. Do I fight for him, do I just walk away, I just don't know. To Sam, you don't even know where I'm coming from, and everytime I take your advice, I fuck myself over; perhaps it's just coincidence.

I will say these two things:
- Confusion mutes the brain, and amplifies the heart.
- Nothing hurts more than the mystery of unanswered questions.

Perhaps these two little wisdom nuggets will make their way to Mrs. Mouneimneh's quote section. They are how I feel about Mike, but they have other, everday applications.

On a little sidebar, I find myself being more creative, musically oriented, and overall more 'left.' I understand 'emo' people now. I understand their success. It's really getting a different vantage point, and helps with one's outlook on life. I'm starting to appreciate music more for its inlaid meaning than the enjoyability of the beat... I appreciate film more for the internal message than for the attractiveness of the characters or the feasibility of the plot. I'm starting to read more in between the lines. It could just be the coffee...

I have a feeling that this is just going to be me unloading everything in my brain. It's been a while since I've had an entry like that. It's like an enema for the brain. ROFL. That's a little NewsRadio humour for ya, right there. It could just be that I'm in irritable mood right now.

I want my fucking car back. I also kinda want it to be totaled. I found a white '97 XJR that I really like. Cheap too. I haven't been cited for any of the accidents that I've been in. Meaning, in the eyes of the law, I've not been the cause. I wish the insurance company felt the same way. My insurance would be $800 cheaper if I hadn't gone up three steps for that tiny accident back in March. Stupid bitch, her random breaking, and her oh-dear-now-that-the-police-are-here-my-neck-hurts-really-bad mindset.

Ya know what song I really like; both for message and for lyrical amiablity? Unwritten - Natasha B. It's excellent. Not only is it quite inspirational, it's very climatic. I actually liken it to sex. I guess, I'd have a pretty interesting book.

Back to Sam and Phil, I think I figured it out. Everything works when we are trying to one-up each other all the time. I have since given up on the one-upage and they haven't. I thought after our mall game talk that all of this was going to change. It was just a way for them to doup me into letting down my guard, I suppose. I feel like I'm too mature for that group. Some of their humour... is just ... stupid. I can't help snickering at the sheer external stupidity of it; not because of my agreement to the topic.

Sam is an enigma. She's just too cocky to handle sometimes, and, unlike Phil and I, never hesitates to put someone in their place. Or where she believes their place is.

I need a haircut. My hair looked awesome yesterday. Like. Awesome. I wasn't able to achieve those results today, unfortunately. Those of you who spend a lot of time on their hair know exactly EXACTLY what I'm talking about. Everytime you do it, you have a picture in your mind of how you want it to look. You work at it for a long time, and you either: a) achieve those results, or b) determine you don't care that much anymore and throw in the towel, or c)change the picture you started with to match the masterpiece you've just created.

When I turn 18, I'm going to, just, fucking, live in a club for a week. I just have this... desire to go to a club, make a complete ass of myself getting wasted and dancing like the white boy that I am. [a.k.a. badly.]

Back to Sam and Phil. I don't deny that we've had some very fun times, but every single hurtful thing that happens cancels out one of the good things. Apathy occurs when an equilibrium us reached. Dissatisfaction occurs when the winning force is hurtful, and satisfaction the reverse respective. I just don't get it.

I know what I want from grandma. I want her to care less. She cares too much, she's too constricting. She is an anaconda around my social life, constricting when she feels I'm being careless. I know, and I've been reminded sooo many times, that she's only doing this for my best interest, but I believe that I'm more capable of deciding whats in my best interest than she is. I am not some stupid, immature, silly 17 year old. I'm the exception to every rule, remember? That's what they keep telling me.

I have to talk to my mother. Not by choice, but because she has a lot of money with my name on it. She was supposed to give it to each of the grandchildren when we turn 21, but I need it now. I know that she hasn't already spent it because she can't. Unless she gave the bank a death certificate with my name on it... which I highly doubt.

I don't know if I've mentioned this before but I am compiling a list of grievances to send to the school committee because there are some really stupid rules. I want to change them, or at least have them reviewed.

I hate MySpace. I've said it before and I'll say it again... it's a cancer. I have one, I admit it, and it's quite addictive, but it's rarely used appropriately.

I hate how people in my age group are just so... immature and closedminded sometimes. It was brought up in health class, for instance, HIV results. The teacher asked if that information should be made public so that people could better protect themselves from the disorder. In a perfect world, I'd say yes. But, people would be discriminatory against someone for something that they probably had no control over. There are 34 cases in Agawam. Great, I don't care. As long as they are responsible enough to not bleed into any of my open sores, we'll all be happy. I don't go around touching other people's blood anyway.

That brings me back to Rent. Oh my goodness. Honestly, it was terrific. Very rarely will you hear me speak so highly of a film/musical/play/tv show/song, anything. It was awesome. I wish everyone would see it. It's catchy, too. It is about coping with AIDS, but there is really a lot more to it. And the part where Angel is in the Santa costume, and dancing around Mark's flat... man. I love it.

Alright, I was wrong. I am going to talk about Mike. Feel free to scroll. I am still in love with him, and I know that he isn't in love with me anymore. I know that he likes someone else, whom, to the best of my knowledge, he has not told; so I shall not mention names. It hurts, and many signs are there that we'll never get back together. I know that he's replaced me, and my place in his heart. I know that and I accept that. That hurts, and there's where a little support would be nice. I know that he doesn't want me back, but what kind of rebel would I be if I didn't keep up the fight? If either way I'm going to be upset about it, either fighting for him or retreating my room, I might as well pursue the road with more of a chance of success. I know that he's probably a little sketched out by me not just letting it go. I don't care. Like I said before, If there's a billionth of a chance I can get him back... I'm going to go for it. What have I got to lose? I already lost him...

Now I'm done talking about Mike because it really is depressing me. I'm not a depressed person, but I have been for the past few weeks. I don't understand how one guy, who was such a dick, can mean so much to me.

I remember in the previews for Rent, there were two movies that I really wanted to see. One is "Mrs. Henderson presents," starring Judi Dench, whom I absolutely adore, and the other has to do with some chinese Geisha... "Memoirs of a Geisha," Thanks IMDB.

Oh, School. How do I detest thee?

Oh, work. Just send my checks and stop making me come...

Oh, bed. I'm really quite tired. I've been writing this for over an hour now.. Goodnight.

¶ 22:42