2009 has been decent.
No, there was no start off bang that most little boys and girls my age dream of.
I have no resolutions, and I don't expect great changes.

Hey wait a second....
I become a legal adult in 234 days.
I get my Canon on Sunday.
I start drivers ed next month.
I may score a job soon.
I'm going to Disney World for spring break.
I'm graduating in June.

Shit, here comes the soothing waves of a much anticipated freedom.
Goodbye fatty Mcme.

Dear Mommy and Daddy dearest,
You cannot protect your little girl forever.
Once she is a legal adult, she calls the shots.
Once she is a legal adult, it's your turn to squirm the way she did.
Once she is a legal adult you can feel how she felt. Helpless about her weight.

Until then, she'll suck it up and try to convince herself to stay strong and carry on. 234 days is not that long.

It pains me to see people loathe their privileges in such ways. Those who play the torture card against their eating disorders. Girls, boys, fucked up citizens of all ages: You don't know what you've got until it's gone people go to school nurses about things that are none of their business, threaten to hospitalize you, and attempt to pry it out of your hyper-determined dead hands.

It will never be gone, and for that I'm grateful. It wasn't until AFTER the intervention that I became as mindfucked as I did. Once I'm in control again happy Kristin will return. I promise.

But, I digress.

I'm getting more painting ideas after a creative slump. God I hate those. I feel like an ant with an obstruction in it's path when my creative flow stops.
But I suppose breaks like that can be beneficial. Because then you can focus on other things. For instance, I've just discovered I really like playing with makeup. So I treated myself to a kickass brush set and some new eyeshadow. I'm also finally starting to tune into my half-assed fashion sense and took myself shopping. I need to wash my clothes myself when I find the time, this way I can rest assured that my clothes won't be mixed in with my fathers work clothes, whose pocket contents contain a pen from time to time. I wouldn't be saying this if such events didn't ruin 3 of my favourite (of few) shirts.
And not to mention every time he uses the washing machine bleach dots will appear on clothes. but only when he does the wash because he lives in denial of the fact that you cannot use the bleach dispenser in my washing machine because it's a peice of defective shit. Things like this are to be expected when you're a cheapass like he is, but he lives in denial of that as well.

I'm going to go watch Pineapple Express now.