Friday, June 28, 2002, 08:04 p.m.

Listening to: dear dear htr/l'il bro/annoyance

I haven't been online since Monday, because real life has been just that good. ^_^ I still love all of you. Even you, Sarah. Yes, you.

Anyway! I've got a PSAT prep session that lasts from 10:30 to 12:30. It's downtown, at the Booker T. Washington Highschool for the Performing and Visual Arts (BTWHPVA). Anyway, at first I was going to drive to and from the thing, but then I had a brief panic attack. The current arrangement is that I go to work with mom, then catch a bus to the rail station, then take the rail downtown and walk the short way to the school. It's great. And it means that every afternoon, I have around four hours to mess around.

In the past week I've bought a purse (German medic's bag) from the Army/Navy store. I've seen two movies, and eaten at the Magical Whataburger twice, spending about four hours in the place. I've wandered around Target, and bought rope lights and animal crackers and Gay Man T-Shirts. I've wandered around Gay Man Land, and tried not to laugh at the interior design store. I've hung out for three hours in an Urban Outfitters, and felt totally stoned. Only I wasn't! Because I don't get stoned. Word. And we went to Keith's Comics, and I was disappointed because of the lack of anything other than just blatant guy-comics.

And I've done all of this with Sarah! Crazy Sarah! She r0x0rz my b0x0rz down to my s0x0rz and back to my b0x0rz again.

Huzzah.

Sunday, June 23, 2002, 11:05 p.m.

Listening to: clubbed to death, matrix soundtrack

My mommy made me drive downtown. It was scary. I have very little confidence in my driving ability, and, consequently, my driving really sucks. I'm that person that everyone curses at for going too slow and for changing speed all the of the sudden, etc. And, uh, that one section of Central downtown is evil. I could feel the bad karma.

But, yanno, my truck has finally named itself. Its name is Detritis, after the Discworld character of the same name. And the gas pedal's name is Edgar, after Edgar Allen Poe.

I let Monica name the gas pedal, you see.

Saturday, June 22, 2002, 10:40 p.m.

Listening to: wish you were here, pink floyd

You know how sometimes you get that feeling of helplessness. . . that feeling that you're just an observer, ultimately unable to change any of the occurences and rules of everyday life?

Yeah. I don't like that.

Thursday, June 20, 2002, 06:24 p.m.

Listening to: come as you are, nirvana

Choochoo bear? Is that you?

Wednesday, June 19, 2002, 11:06 p.m.

Listening to: cry freedom, dave matthews band

There are reasons that we have friends. One of these reasons is that they will tell you what to do. I love you, Natalie, dear.

In other news, Millie Thompson is incredibly cool and I want her coat and her really big ass gun. So I'm going to make them! Ha!

Matters are complicated by Natalie's wish to be Wolfwood. She wants a fancy gun-type cross and I say that if she wants a fancy gun-type cross then I'll make her wear a sign that says "DEAD" because, dammit, he's not just sleeping and I want to go cry now wah.

Big guns. Right.

Wednesday, June 19, 2002, 04:02 p.m.

Listening to: sad for me, no doubt

You know, sometimes, you just really want some macaroni and cheese and then you get home and you look, and you go "YAY! We have Kraft Mac and cheese! Yes!" and then you whistle, check, and yes we have milk, too! So you put on some water, and tell your little brother to watch it and to dump in the macaroni when it boils because you must go to the potty. And then you come back, and you look to get out the milk and it's gone because your little brother drank the last of it.

So then you throttle him, but then, lo! You remember that you can DRIVE! And you go to the convienence store and buy milk. And eat mac and cheese. And watch The Usual Suspects and yay!

Monday, June 17, 2002, 04:02 p.m.

Listening to: glycerine, bush

On children:

As you no doubt know if you're reading this, during the summer I volunteer at the Environmental Education Center daycamp near my house. Now, this means that I get to spend hours every weekday with a group of about twenty ten year-old kids.

Some of them are sweet. There's an adorable little girl who doesn't hover around me but doesn't ignore me, either. She gave me a present (the indian bracelet currently around my wrist).

Some of them are extremely curious, and don't realize that I really don't know anything that the teachers do; all I know is where the bathrooms are/what poison ivy, bull nettle, and poison oak look like/when to be quiet/what an egret is. These children become annoying, but are also cute.

Then there are the Bart Simpsons. Good God, they drive me insane. They jump all over me just to annoy me and they won't listen to me when I tell them that the turtles are *not* mating, they are just in the same flowerpot. They make bad jokes, and they pick on the other kids. They make me hate children.

. . . I was going somewhere with this, but I don't remember where. So, um, I'm gonna quit now.

Sunday, June 16, 2002, 05:52 p.m.

Listening to: silence, delerium

And launch! Huzzah! (I <3 Will, BTW)

Sunday, June 16, 2002, 03:42 p.m.

Listening to: standing, vnv nation

And here it goes. Whee hoo for me? I suppose so.

Must find a place to upload images. Where the hell is Will when you need him?

I like orange. It is pretty.

Note to self: figure out way to make site not look like shit when window is really big.