There's this nicely-balanced article about the "return to womanism" in last week's issue of TIME that describes how a husband and wife must juggle eachother 's work scheduels to find time to be with the children they're attempting to raise.

The most interesting point in the article comes from the perspective of the husband that takes into account the current necessity for families to have a dual income (since the middle class has suffered so much monetary loss in the past few decades), and how a single-income family would suffer under the stress: if the wife is to foresake her ambitious profession to help raise offspring (and thereby never gaining the noteriety needed to advance her position) and the husband is the only source of income (having to pursue a larger workload to ensure that the family doesn't dip below a poverty line that a dual-income household STILL has trouble battling), then family relations become strained as the wife feels confined to her household duties and the husband to his demanding profession.

What scares me most about that article, besides it being true, is that that is how my family operates (with near-minimal help from the grandma who is currently living it up back in the motherland).

Add that to trying to find money for tuition... and I'm one stressed out lil puppy.

If you've been having a good day today, and are a little bit of an empath, stop reading this now.

. . .

It's gotten to the point where I can't stand to look into a mirror anymore. Or any sort of reflection unless it's completely necessary that I do.

I told sis that I got the scrapes from stumbling into a mess of sharp-pointed easels in the art room. Anything to keep her from worrying. Or anyone for that matter.

Which is why I pour all my pity and my worries here.

Yeah, the same thing is happening with him. The same thing that I was afraid of ever since I started to open up to him. He said it wouldn't be the same, that somehow we'd stay the closest of friends even with me burdening him with my secrets. I should learn not to trust what people think they can do.

Our conversations are now restricted to my stiffled rantings and whining, as he responds with questions and ideas about the best way to play these songs. Then I would help him with his music theory and everything would start again.

I think I'm starting to annoy him. That's the worst feeling in the world; realizing that you're annoying someone you want to stay amiable with.

And now I'm annoying whoever reads this, including myself.

. . .

Word History:

“A painter's ass” is not a phrase that immediately brings to mind an accessory to the artist's profession. But easel comes to us from the Dutch word ezel, meaning “ass, donkey.” The Dutch word was eventually extended to mean “an upright frame for displaying or supporting something,” in the same way that the English word horse has come to mean “a piece of gymnastic equipment with an upholstered body.” Developments such as these illustrate the playfulness or wit sometimes introduced into language when speakers use perceived similarities between two objects to name one of them.

. . .

Procrastination is the deadliest of vices. At least right now. I have so many deadlines (::coughmondaycough::) that I really need to stop sleeping... and stop postponing things.

Even typing up this entry I'm wasting valuable time which I could spend finishing up these applications for scholarships. Because...

The parents have more or less told me that I can't go out of state. At least, the entire family would go for broke if I did. Because sis and I are going to college at the same time. And we want--

No more procrastinating.

Essays upon essays, he crawls from beneath the newly erected mountain of paperwork to notify those who wish of his continued existence.

Hi.

One good thing to note: my voice in my essays has improved vastly. In fact, I'm writing almost as satirically in my admissionspapers as I do here, while not quite as frequent as I would wish to. At least I'm not as infrequent as the results of the Bush Administration's search for WMDs in the middle east.

Given my tendency to procrastinate almost dangerously, I have rendered much of my hard work over the past 18 years... void. Sure, I have the mind and, in spurts and fits of inspiration, the drive to succeed, but without the money to leave the state (specifically due to the parents constantly reminding me that I may not have the choice of an out-of-state school) my prospects are darker than an Ethiopian tanner.

Speaking of, I've been meaning to go on a diet at some point in the near future.

Need to take digitals of the recent body of work. I'm churning out surprisingly good stuff after almost half a year of muse-less suffering. Big update is possible during this three-day weekend.

Even if I have to come in tomorrow to wokr on my movie.

... or my 'rents decide that they've been living in a sty for far too long.

Regardless.