entry 61
name: Christine
email: ccampigo@du.edu
url: http://cmc421.blogspot.com
message:
Mollie, long time no talk but I still read religiously. (I'm going to assume you remember me, SocialCasualty or whatever, lord knows I haven't used that name in years but it's still me I suppose). David Sedaris is not great literature but it is good for a laugh. Dave Eggers is great. I do think you'll like him. Very it's-1992-and-I-wear-flannel-and-don't-know-why-I'm-angsty. My new favorite book is "The God of Small Things" by Arundhati Roy, and with a 1998 copyright I think it qualifies as quite contemporary. You may hate it, but it does come recommended, regardless. Anyway, enough lit-talk. Would love to hear from you!
date: 10:13 pm - Thursday,June 15, 2006

entry 60
name: becky
email:
url: http://division-day.diaryland.com
message:
sorry about the sister. as a kleptomaniac, i have to sympathize with being caught at anthropol0gie in particular.. it is part of the same company as urban 0utfitters. UO is the one place i've been caught, and i know several friends who've been caught there -- that company is particularly nasty with shoplifters. treats them like murderers, makes them feel horrible, i even had a friend who was tackled on the street and beaten up. i've never gotten caught anywhere else, but i have friends who have, and we all agree that UO treats its shoplifters the worst by far, and i'm assuming anthropologie has the same tactics.. poor sister. whatever your opinion of shoplifting, it's a horrible, demeaning experience to be caught. of course it was my own fault (and hers) but i think everyone deserves to be treated as a human being, and i certainly wasn't, even though i was 100% nice and friendly throughout the entire experience. anyway, tell her i feel for her... sorry this is so random and long. :) take care!
date: 0:38 am - Friday,December 30, 2005

entry 59
name: delighted
email:
url:
message:
because, as Mr Cummings pointed out, " Yes is the only living thing."
date: 2:56 pm - Friday,February 25, 2005

entry 58
name: delighted
email:
url:
message:
Oh Miss Mollie, we're so- I don't know. In the morning I say "bad brain, bad brain be good." to myself but it doesn't listen
date: 3:47 pm - Friday,June 11, 2004

entry 57
name: delighted
email:
url:
message:
hey miss mollie, I think you are lovely and quite the snappy dresser yourself! Leap!
date: 5:49 am - Friday,February 13, 2004

entry 56
name: Artemisia (from TF)
email:
url:
message:
just popping in to say hi and see how you are. take care <3
date: 3:01 am - Saturday,February 7, 2004

entry 55
name: Brigitte
email:
url: http://homepage.mac.com/pcoovert/
message:
Hi, I stumbled across your journal and thought I'd say hello. I hear Portland, while amazingly cool, can be dreary. Just do whatever makes you feel comfortable. If that's going back home, that's okay. ^_^
date: 4:51 pm - Friday,February 6, 2004

entry 54
name: donna
email: sequinedseahorse at hotmail dot com
url: sythy.diaryland.com
message:
I've gone through every phase of trying to control my eating/be at peace with my body that you're describing, including your most recent. I find your observation about the relationship between your body image/discomfort around new people really interesting. I was at the mall by myself last night and I had my first serious "I am fat" feeling in a while, and I think it was because I was around all these people I didn't know. I, too, am very reserved, and I'm starting to think that much of the sadness I feel is from holding back--feeking as if I need to hold back--who I really am.
date: 1:22 pm - Saturday,December 13, 2003

entry 53
name: delighted
email:
url:
message:
You should just scream. One friday night, I just got in the car and drove too fast up and down dark streets, in no particular order or direction and screamed and screamed; Swear words, names of people, places, books, kitchen utensils and sometimes just that shapeless noise of pain. I felt better for it.
date: 6:14 am - Tuesday,November 18, 2003

entry 52
name: s.
email: sibleyleft@yahoo.com
url:
message:
Once I knew this girl. Actually, I had known her for years, but she seemed to come in and out of my life so much she might as well be new. She was a little nobody girl back then. She stomped on floppy feet and her voice had a nails-on-chalkboard quality. She was always too much. Too loud, too quiet, too ugly, too cute, too much. Anyway, nobody paid too much attention to her. I met this girl again a few years down the road, at a hipper-than-thou indie scenester club. She seemed like a different girl somehow. She had an easy grace. Her toes didn't even scrape the floor when she floated around the room. She was still a little nobody girl, but it seemed as though she and everyone else had either forgotten that or just chose to overlook it. She had it because she thought she had it. She had it because she didn't need anyone to tell her she had it. What people say or don't say doesn't matter. Because they say or do it to you, it doesn't matter. You could be anyone and they would say the same things, do the same things. I'm not sure what I'm saying. I'm really inarticulate. I wish I had some sort of fiberoptic cable to translate my thoughts into words but I'll leave you with this: the things we want the most are the things we already have but don't think we truly deserve. That's my mr. miyagi moment for the week.
date: 10:45 pm - Sunday,October 12, 2003