Also in Hawaii, I saw Olana, the increasingly estranged and quiet focus of my communications to Hawaii. The time I spent at her house was pleasant, if awkward. Her dog likes me. I don't think her dad hates me, but I can't tell. Her cousin Joe is going out with my cousin Bonnie, and they live in Seattle. SEE? When you live in Hawaii, that sort of thing happens ALL the TIME. Olana gave me a Koosh ball for christmas, which I love. I gave her nothing, because I am the biggest loser in the world. (And I'm broke)

Not for long! Soon I shall have a powerful position in a GREAT and TERRIBLE corporation from which I will ordain things and collect big money! Then I'll shower the faithful with gifts.

Optimism! I like optimism because you get to be happy even though nothing good has happened yet. If it never DOES happen, you are disappointed, but you've still got that 'free' happiness. You don't even have to be shallow and ignorant to be optimistic. You can realize that everything ends, and the greatest probability is that you'll die an unknown, and that no one will ever REALLY understand everything about you, but STILL BE OPTIMISTIC. Stupid? Well, wearing black clothes in Hawaii is stupid, too, but I was all over that scene.
(I still manage to get into these moods where I coddle my unhappy side.)

Chirpy optimists are as different from me as beef jerky is from weetabix. Blech. Go tend your store, sell me some goddamn groceries and eat your weetabix. I have some idea exactly how fucked up everything is, it just doesn't bug me, much, right now.

Mmm. Smack smack. I'm pretty sure there's some kind of fucked up hole in my leftmost lower molar. Every so often the dull ache will flare into a shiny lick of metallic pain. "That's what it feels like when air touches a nerve", I think. I kind of like it more than the dull aching.

Summary:
2: weetabix, dull ach[e/ing], fucked up, optimism, optimistic