I'm filled with complaints about money, but to blurt them out seems pointless. Really, the only thing that can be done is to find a way to make more, then that'll never be enough. Nobody ever has the right amount of money. I went to a vegan meetup, but lingered downtown afterwards: I was suppose to hang out with some other actresses I worked with for the show on the 12 & 13, but I worried about bus fare for work the following week, plus I wouldn't be able to by a drink or enjoy myself financially. I'd be the pity person, where everyone says, "Oh, poor you! Here, let my at least buy you a drink. It's no problem." If I were broke occassionally, it wouldn't be a big deal. I'm always broke, even after just getting a job. I hate having to depend on others just to socialize or to have fun. I feel like I'm a little kid again and I don't like this. It's hard to be independent when you have no money. If you strive for independence and need money to do that, you're seen as greedy. [I doubt one of my dominant traits is greed, but once, another actor friend accused me of being such, meanwhile he was getting his money from his grandmother. I had told him that I wanted to pursue acting in the film/tv field because it made more money and he took that to mean I was greedy, acting like he was more artistic for being more into theatre. He's abandoned acting and had become more miserable, more critical and grumpy. He labelled me pothead just to be antagonistic. Everytime I think about him, I go down that road.] Anyway, I'm expecting some more money that's late, but once it does come, I'll be alright. I'll give Wendy's a year, more or less, before I look for something else unless they fire me before then.

Dad's at work, mom's in Jamaica and I've got the stereo playing Jamiroquai. I can't believe that yesterday, while on the bus coming home, I was on the verge of tears thinking about money. It always gets me down: the amount of money I posses equals my moods. I hope my brother answers my message I sent to him, so I could tape another gripping episode of "The L Word". I'll be leaving my dad alone at home in the evening then. Since my mom left, he's been sitting in the house with no tv or even music blaring away: just sitting in silence. It seemed depressing and it made me think on what his life would be if ever both my parents divorced. A 65-year-old newly divorced Jamaican man sitting in his crappy bachelor pad, sparsely organised, a couch cushioning his sad self, cupping his face in his hands just staring at nothing. It was heartbreaking to come home from work to see him like that. I can't imagine what my mom would be like, but I bet she'd still be griping about him. I pity them sometimes, not because it makes me glad to be single or anything, but to end their lives without eachother and have no sense of adventure afterwards? I can't see them having a hedonistic sense of life at all, I should know, taking vacations with them throughout my life.

Whenever I get over my fear of offending people and living the life I really want, then I'll be happy. I hide my true feelings yet I antagonise people anyway; I try to be careful with my money and yet I'm always broke with no enjoyment to show for it and a pile of DVD's; I have almost no assets, feeling like I have nothing. I don't speak my mind, so people create their own perspectives of me; I'm too reclusive so my room reflects the clutter within. I'm not enjoying life and I should. I could die later on today and have nothing to show for it. Just remembering my credit rating with nothing but a legal report of the incident on xmas day '97, the ugliest mark to show of.