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February 28, 2003 - 6:29 PM
Dear Tyler,
It was great to have coffee with you, although my coffee was atrocious. I bet you could tell! I'm not the greatest actor, my mother tells me. Blech. It really, really needed the sugar I opted for none of. But anyway, it didn't ruin my time with you.
I'm sorry if I was a bit silent. It's not that I didn't like your friend. She was awesome. Be sure to tell her I said that. I meant it, it really was nice to meet her. It figures you, being so cool yourself, would hang out with such cool people. And it's not that you were ignoring me. I just feel like anything I could say would be so boring and contrived in comparison to the fun stories and inside jokes you and she were exchanging. That, and I feel like a lameass little eighteen-year-old while the two of you are in your twenties - somewhat like the stupid little sister tagging along. I don't mean to sound sad or self-pitying; it's just a feeling I have. Don't take it personally, I'm not upset. Like I said above, this didn't ruin my time with you either. Nothing did. You really do rock. We need to hang out more, I think. So I hope I get to see you again soon.
PS: You really look like Matthew Good, especially with your beatnik glasses. It's fucking astounding how much you look like him. I know, or hope in the absence of my confidence in that knowledge, you'll take that as a compliment. I like your funky new redness, by the way.
Yeah, so they're bombing a no-fly zone and apparently it's typical. I should have known by the fact that American media wasn't whoring it out in my face like everyone, even those who don't give a shit, must watch and care. I guess I didn't draw a distinction between bombing one part of Iraq and another. Holy fuck. I thought we were supposed to take care of this planet. This species doesn't seem to want to treat it as the only planet we've got; we take such horrible advantage of it. Think of what we could be doing with that space that's designated as a "safeguard" between Iraq and Iran, all that space in other countries that's being wasted storing nukes and under big military bases and being used as practice ranges. Creating shelter for the homeless and poverty-stricken, perhaps?
FUCK WAR with an uppercase everything. And fuck Bush. Psychotic little Texan wank.
February 27, 2003 - 3:00 PM
Am I the only one who knows, realizes, or cares that America is bombing Iraq?
Sad to say, I just remembered that. I learned of it last night.
I just did about two ounces of work on my huge ASP project due in a little more than two weeks. That puts me at still less than five percent of the required work done, I think. Blarf. My procrastination sucks.
My study habits and attention span aren't that sharp, either.
Reminder to self: There's something you want to get for Rae and send with her letter. You know what it is.
My cool cousin Tyler is meeting me for coffee on Friday. Mmm... vanilla coffee. It kind of sucks that he's going to have to settle for the sight of my hair being slightly faded and with short brown roots growing in. In its prime, it was a beautiful thing. But, meh. I was so mentioned in his blog. So I am special. So there.
It's been hard to refrain from writing in either this or my online diary as often as I would. But, I promised I'd quit with the writing in the online diary every day, and now make it a point to write only two or three times a week. It's not like I ever have anything to say, anyway. And, my two-day absences allow for ridiculously-mass amounts of notes from readers to collect at the end of my latest entry. Sheesh! I love the peoples. Damn it, I hadn't realized I was so popular at that site. I guess absence does make the heart grow fonder.
I'm hungry. For a bagel... with salsa and melted cheese. Mmm.
I want it to be tonight already. Smackdown, biatch!
February 26, 2003 - 10:33 PM
Adam and I were kicked out of the mall food court. Many theories exist as to just why this happened. The Rent-a-Mall-Cop hid behind the excuse that signs are strewn around implementing a one-dollar purchase minimum and twenty-minute time limit. However, at the top, it says something like that the rule exists to better serve the needs of their customers, i.e., paying customers need the tables brokeass mooches are occupying. Upon looking around the vast food court, I realized that it was as empty as it always is at four o'clock. There were maybe twenty other people in there, occupying maybe eight tables.
I, of course, being the defensive little freak that I am, automatically jumped to and still stick with my conclusion that we looked to Old Fart like lazy teenagers with freaky hair who were probably sitting there waiting for a drug deal to go down, or some similar despicably-biased shit. Adam and I can agree that the guy didn't do it because it needed to be done, or even should have been done, but to make his dick feel big. Hey, wife, I saw these freaky-doo teenagers today. I tossed their scary asses out.
We weren't hurting anything. Unless perhaps some nearby morons heard all the cussing and political opinionating in our hushed-to-keep-between-us verbal exchange. Bunch of conservative fucking Frederictonian idiots.
I HATE XML. I'm too tired to even pretend to be trying to learn this stuff. I just want to get my damn assignments done and leave.
Tomorrow! Smackdown night at Joel's! Rah. It's pathetic how excitedly I look forward to that every week. PS2 and wrestling and kitties and blankets and some fucking company is nice, a welcome change from my boringass daily life.
I swear a lot. I bet it makes seem unintelligent.
February 25, 2003 - 1:46 PM
There was indeed school yesterday. I guess the bad roads and having to chip ice off of their cars just caused everyone to be late. And my teacher was most likely out having a smoke.
Steffie gets today off because it snowed two inches where she lives in Mississippi. I wonder what's the record snowfall for one night here. I wonder where I could find that out. I'll have to bother my mom about it later. I, like a child, still have, though I know I shouldn't, the outdated impression that my mother is all-knowing and all-powerful, when in reality I could probably find the information faster on the Internet than she could think up a way to find out the answer to my question. But I'm always too lazy to try something myself unless I have someone else's estimate that it will work.
I've been thinking I need to redecorate my room. I'd like to make a collage of my walls: magazine photos, song lyrics, quotes, pictures of my friends and me and whatever else I deem worthy of the walls. But again. I'm lazy. And anyway, I'll probably be moving out within a year or two. Adam and his best friend are looking at getting a place together in the city this fall, and he hit me up to join them. No way am I ready for that. Not to live with Adam and his best friend, and definitely not to live with just Adam. Plus Willie smokes bad-smelling drugs. But with any luck, I will at least be out of my parents' basement after I graduate in September.
Blargh. I am done. And bored. Time to try vainly to amuse myself on the net.
February 24, 2003 - 8:31 AM
I don't think I'm supposed to be at school right now. It's 8:23, and I'm the only one in the classroom. No other students, no teacher. There were school cancellations in my area, but not in my school's district. Nonetheless, I can hope that maybe I'm not supposed to be here and I can entreat my mother to come fetch me and have one less day of XML learning. I'll feel like a moron for having showed up, but still.
Adam took his grad ring back from me. He'd given it to me as a "symbol of his love" early on in our relationship. He took it back recently because the mood ring he wears every day broke and his finger felt bare. A valid reason, and the thing cost him plenty of moolah, which was the reason I shied from accepting it from him in the first place. But still. It kind of hurts, more than it should. It feels a bit like he's either forgotten the symbolism he attached to my possession of the ring, he's consciously dropped it, or he's revoking his love, though I know the last isn't true.
February 23, 2003 - 10:05 PM
In the span of the last twelve hours we have had snow, rain, hail, thunder and lightning.
You just gotta love this country.
My boyfriend dyed his hair bright green. I'll put up pictures when I get them back. Preliminary, not-entirely-colour-accurate webcam photos are here, if you absolutely can't wait.
I realized, in four of the five shots I posted, I'm kissing some part of Adam's head. That's a good sign, I think.
I've been taking time away from the Internet. Nobody would dispute that I need it.
I took a nap earlier this evening. It seems I always accidentally fall asleep when I curl up under the blanket on the couch to get warm when I'm cold. Thunder shaking the house woke both me and my cat, who'd curled up by my stomach to sleep in my warmth. I freaked out, and thought I was in the middle of an earthquake. Upon realizing it was only an electrical storm, I got up to shut off my laptop, scaring the cat when I moved to abandon him. He later followed me and snuggled up next to me on my bed while I was responding to a letter. That cat has become such a lovely snuggle-whore in his old age.
Joel updated his site recently with a bunch of the poems he's written for me. 'Afraid' was the only one I hadn't seen previously at the end of one of his e-mails to me. It struck me upon reading that one, as it has so many times since he's started sharing his work with me, what an amazing word artist this boy is. His outputs are simply beautiful. I'm especially appreciative for the reasons that a) a lot of the works were, as mentioned, written with me in mind and b) it's rare to find a guy who will admit to writing poetry, much less can write a decent one with any amount of feeling in it. I don't mean to be sexist in saying that, but it seems to be true from my experience.
Well... I'm off to the shower. Happy thoughts, all.
February 20, 2003 - 3:43 PM
Today has been the longest day of my existence.
Paul Thornton dork is in the room again.
It did bother Adam that I went to Joel's that night while he was in Toronto. Only "a little," though that doesn't take away any of the pain and guilt I feel for causing him to be bothered even a little.
The ridiculous amount of love I have for that boy scares and elates me.
Since we broke up that time, we've been having the greatest relationship ever - just like when we first started out. I guess coming thisclose to losing someone can really teach you a hard lesson in how much you don't want that to happen.
February 19, 2003 - 12:43 PM
Just had to burp my computer. Like I said, air gets compressed under the keys and I have to turn it over and spank it. It's gotten the frozen keys to work every time.
I didn't think I looked that different, but man. I spent my whole lunch hour staring out the window at my boyfriend's ex. I saw her see me at least two dozen times, saw her staring, even, trying to figure out who I was, I guess. Obviously she had no damn idea. I'll have to call her tonight and poke fun at her for it. Yeah. That red-haired freak that was watching you sit in the food court with some guy drinking a big McDonald's pop? That was me.
I wonder who the guy was with her. Maybe she's got her own boyfriend and she can butt the fuck out of my relationship. I doubt it, though.
There is another Paul Thornton on the planet, and he goes to my school. Paul Thornton was a total preppyass jerkoff in my former high school that thought he was god because he was a jock and could therefore get any dumb blonde hoebag in the school to sleep with him. He looked at me like I was the biggest dirtbag on the planet if I even wore a black T-shirt with a band logo on it and actually had the nerve to put in his yearbook writeup, in reference to my boyfriend at the time, that his pet peeve was "boys who wear makeup." Fucking rat sack.
Anyway, Paul Thornton ver. II was glaring at me like that when he came into my classroom this morning for help from my teacher, and again in the cafeteria as I was just peacefully sitting in the corner eating my fucking lunch and minding my own fucking business. I saw him smirking, passing amused glances to a male friend that seemed not to give half that much of a shit about the way I looked, and while he didn't have the actual guts to call me anything, even half under his breath, for fear that I would hear and go apeshit, he made his opinion of me clear when he caught sight of a girl with green hair and big black boots walking down the sidewalk below and loudly announced his find to his friend, who got up to look but, again, didn't seem to give a shit.
And they wonder why it's always the "freaks" who shoot up the schools! Perhaps because society preaches acceptance and tolerance and love and all that poo, but does little to nothing to show any of those happy feelings to those of us it considers "undesirable"? Society can be cruel at times. Cruel and hypocritical. Even those who say you can't make fun of a fat kid, or a black kid, or a gay kid will make fun of a "freak." Because we can help what's "wrong" with us. We can choose to look "normal," and therefore the fact that we've chosen not to means we're in some defiance of society and we're asking for the negative attention.
Suck your load.
My name is Emily, and I have a problem. I'm addicted to hair dye. Yeah, you could probably have guessed that safely by my photos above. (Those are meeee!)
I'm dyeing it again tonight. Red again, to use up the last of the brightassred dye. (Manic Panic's 'Wildfire,' if you give a shit. And that webcam photo really doesn't do it justice, nor does the photo of the pink. The pink dye above was Fudge's Pink Flamingo, the exact dye that Kelly Osbourne used for her pink - and it turned out just as bright, if not brighter. I have better pics on my site.)
Then, I have hordes of my Internet groupies deciding through an online poll what colour combination to put in there next. Green is currently winning. I've never had green, aside from the shittygreen I had when my bright blue faded in a chlorine pool. I'm not much for green, myself - I don't wear a lot of it - but I've found a gorgeous dark green dye that I've been pressuring Joel to put in his hair for awhile now, but due to his slave-labour job at Tim Hortons and his usual general lack of guts, he likely won't do it for... a long, long while, if ever.
Aw. I love ya, babe.
I've decided to start laying my day's clothes out the night before on school nights. Saves me from wasting three of my precious typical five minutes of available time to get ready for school in the morning between me getting up and my drive leaving, grabbing pants I've worn for two days and a shirt I wore the night before that smells like some sort of drug's smoke. Today was the first day of this new hopefully-routine, and it went off beautifully. I picked out black flare-leg pants and a black baby tee with I MAKE THE RULES - I BREAK THE RULES on it in pink with a deep red silk button-up shirt open over it. Threw my red spiked collar, my silver lip ring, some heavy black eyeliner, and my everpresent heart-shaped mood ring (blue-purple right now - "passionate") into the mix for some poser cred.
I could go into a poser rant now, but I'll just write a reminder for myself instead. Why call people "posers"? At least it means they think you're cool and want to be like you. If I'm a poser, it's only because I live in Burtts fucking Corner, New Brunswick, eastern Canada and have no access to any underground punk/goth scene. And anyway, I don't call myself punk or goth. Or anything. I'm me. I dress casually and spice it up with jewelry. Stuff I like. I don't see why people have such a problem with that, why they have to label me. It's so fucking stupid - if I wear a spiked collar and eyeliner and blue hair one day I'm a "goth," or "punk," or "freak," but then if I wear my Leo Hayes High hoodie with jeans and blonde hair I'm a "damn preppy." I can't fucking win. So I've given up trying. Fuck that, I never bothered trying. I am more than my face value, and people who don't see that are idiots. "Preppy," my ass. It's nothing short of retarded that I'd be shunned for supposedly trying to be a part of a group I'm not trying to be in.
Anyway, I guess it goes to show who's more tolerant and edjemecated up on the ways of the real world.
This is a damn long post. Nonetheless, I'll be back later, no doubt.
February 18, 2003 - 3:50 PM
I just logged into my school's development FTP server. My last name was spelled horribly wrong.
'Nerruthew.' Heh.
It's Merrithew, for the record. Not that that's that great an improvement.
Hehe! I just used 'that' three times in a row, and it's perfectly acceptable in context. Now that's impressive.
The air exchangers in my classroom just died. And I haven't had my headphones on all day. Ahh... silence. Nothing in the room but the whirring of computers and the gentle clicking of laptop keyboards.
Speaking of which. My keyboard died again this morning. Remembering that the network admin had theorized that air was being trapped under those keys that die, and that turning it over and taking out the battery often corrected the problem, I turned it over, put it across my lap and whacked it. When I opened it again a bunch of dirt had come loose from the keyboard and was now stuck to the screen. I wiped it off and booted. The thing worked fine and it's been behaving since.
I guess what fixed it before was not taking out the battery, but turning the computer over to do so. That must dislodge the dirt and air under the keys.
I find it amusing that, after all the things I've tried to correct past keyboard failures, I've discovered the one that works best is to take it upside-down over my knee and spank it.
I've spent the greater part of today getting a comments thing for this blog. Now when you click 'Comment,' a page comes up you can leave comments on, rather than a blank e-mail addressed to me. Not that I expect anyone to use it.
Crap. The air exchangers have kicked back in. And one of the recording-arts classes is playing a heinously-annoying loop of a remix of Creed's 'Bullets' over and over and over. Guess I'd better go before this becomes yet another bitchy entry.
February 17, 2003 - 2:41 PM
My pills suck. They fuck up my stomach. It hurts now. I'll have to inquire about a better prescription when I go to the doctor's for my foot.
Fucking doctor. Probably he'll just give me some overpriced pills that do nothing and both problems will persist.
My ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend is extremely much better looking than me. He sent me pictures.
It used to be I was "the most beautiful woman in the world," his "goddess." Now it's "I couldn't pick between you two in the looks department."
Blah. That makes me sad - though it shouldn't.
I wonder if Adam's "you're my queen, my princess, Miss Universe all rolled into one beautiful person" will one day change to something ambiguous like that.
I have a test this afternoon. I have not studied and I do not know the material. I'm starting to slack off in this class worse than usual and I think my current average of 99.26% is going to reflect that with a slide second-term. Bah to school, anyway. Damn ASP. Damn database connectivity. Damn making damn websites for a goddamn living. I don't want to spend my life sitting in front of a computer and fucking rotting my hands away with carpal tunnel syndrome and making websites for snotty fat bosses who will never be pleased with my colour layouts anyway. My websites are for me and I do them my way and anyone who doesn't like that can cram it up their asses with walnuts.
Some people express their changing life desires through fear. I express mine through anger and general lack of interest.
Yeah... anyway. I've been thinking I'd like to change career paths, is the point of the above. A certain... dream is reemerging from my preteen years that I think maybe I'd like to pursue.
Who am I kidding. We all know I'm going to live out my other childhood dream of becoming a drunk in a ditch and overdosing when I'm thirty.
And yes, I really did have that vision of my future as a child. I am that demented.
It has been so cold out lately I've resorted to wearing a toque. A toque. Like a goddamned Canadian. I hope someday to live someplace where I never have to hear the word "minus" or "wind chill" in reference to the weather. I'm sorry, but minus forty fucking eight with two metres of snow on the ground is no environment for me. Fuck coming home for Xmas - my family won't see me all winter. I'll be doing the hula by my Xmas tree.
February 16, 2003 - 9:27 PM
My boyfriend's in Toronto. He's been gone a fucking day. He's probably not even there yet, or just arrived, and I miss him already. I miss him so goddamn much I've been hurting all day. I've been thinking as though he's dead, remembering the look in his eyes right before he goes to sleep, his hugs, when he bites my nose and then kisses it when I scrunch it at him. I want him here with me, damn it.
He's in Toronto. A big city with mean people and crime. He's an unassuming little man in a big mean city with his middle-aged grandfather. I'm so scared something's going to happen to him, on the drive there, on the drive back, in the city itself. And how would I know? How, and when, would I ever find out? How the fuck would I go on if something did happen, and I lost him without ever having said a goodbye? I'd forever fucking hate myself for not taking that last phone call.
Damn it. Listen to me, I'm hysterical over nothing.
I'm just living for the day he comes back. I don't care anymore if he brings me anything, or even my fifty bucks back. He's the best present he could give to me right now.
I am eating Dutch Chocolate ice cream. Tell me that doesn't sound good. You're wrong! It's positively orgasmic.
My cat wants some. He's trying to stick his nose in my ice-cream bowl.
No. None for you. Shoo, cat.
Things That are Highly Appealing to Me Right Now:
Sleep.
Snuggles.
Coffee.
Blankeys.
Sad songs.
A shoulder massage.
Adam.
Joey.
Mopems.
Love.
Adam. god, I miss him.
Things That are Not Appealing to Me Today in the Slightest:
Food.
Salsa.
Milk.
Underwear.
Light.
The idea of driving.
Seriousness.
Claptrap.
Consciousness.
Love.
Distance.
The stupidity of the world.
Me and my damn mouth.
Certain other people I feel stupid around because I feel I've lied to them.
Crying, though I have been doing it.
Life in general.
February 15, 2003 - 11:21 PM
I really dislike myself sometimes. I hate that telling people how I feel about them makes me feel as though they're just going to be sitting around on their asses waiting for me to be single and hating me until I do, like I've dangled something in their faces they could have, but can't right now.
I heard from Tyler. Finally. Tyler is the coolest cousin I have and he's fallen off the face of the earth for the last... feels like long while. So he wanted to hang out with me today, I discovered too late. Crap. I hope that offer still applies for a later date. Damn me for having felt ill and slept all day.
My keyboard is being wanky. Every once in awhile the G, H, ", Backspace and Win keys stop working. Usually the problem is corrected by me banging on the offending keys several times each until the corresponding character shows its ass on the screen, but there have been times when I've had to shut the system down and take out the battery for several seconds, and once I even had to get one of my school's network admins to take it apart overnight and reassemble it.
Things I Wish My Boyfriend Would Do:
Get a job.
Get his licence.
Dye his hair.
Want me for reasons other than action.
February 14, 2003 - 2:43 PM
I just sent a love letter to a girl. I think. Whoo-wee, I'm bad.
I'm getting altogether too brave with my feelings. I've been sharing them with people left and right, and tossing around the word 'love' to and in regards to people as though it were fucking candy. This is how you get your heart broken, Em. All pains aside, I don't remember ever having had such love for everyone in my life as I do now. Joel, Adam, Steph, Rae, my father.... All being good to me, and some getting more from me than I've ever been able to comfortably give to anyone.
I blame Jamie Currie. This was made apparent to me that week. I think at the end of January, when a bunch of us went black-light bowling and Jamie's dumb ass was staring at Joey as though because he dresses punk-goth, he's lower than dirt in terms of humanity. I went over and mouthed off at him. So unlike me. I thought it was a trend of that week, carrying over from confessing to Joel my feelings for him. But it's persisted. I've been more courageous, more willing to leave my heart open and vulnerable, since getting over the Joel hurdle. I'm not sure whether I like this new trait about me or not. It gets me more of what I want, leaves me with fewer regrets... but as I said, it leaves me open and vulnerable. The more people that know how I tick, the more people know how to turn me into a ticking time bomb or just stick something between the hands and stop my clock entirely.
Soon my initial interest in this weblog will die down, and I'll quit posting random crap several times a day. Damn high-speed Internet.
The site where my online diary is hosted is down. Yet again. gawd. That site goes down more often than a prostitute.
His touch feels too damn good.
It's Valentine's Day, so... a Valentine's Day rant.
I hate people who crab about Valentine's Day because they're bitter and single. Valentine's Day is commercialized crap. I acknowledge that - but so is Xmas, Halloween, Easter, Thanksgiving, just about any other holiday you can name. Happy little couples just have to rub it in our faces. Oh, shut up. I don't rub it in your face any more on Valentine's Day than I normally do - which I try to make never. Just because I found a boyfriend - whoopee shit. If these bitter little people were looking with half an eye open, anyone could find someone to be with on Valentine's Day if that's all they want, as though it matters. Trust me, pretty much any two people could click as well as my boyfriend and I do.
Quit yer bitching and go out and try to find someone if you're that upset about being alone. I don't want to hear that "love sucks" and be told that I'm just rubbing my "perfect little relationship" in your face. Both are shit and you don't know what you're talking about. Relationships aren't perfect. Hell, mine is far from that. Will you let me have one day where the guy tries to make up for all the shit he puts me through by buying me something pink and something fattening? And anyway, we all know the reason you hate Valentine's Day so much is because you're jealous, you feel as though couples are on the "inside" of it and you're on the "outside," which is horseshit. Speaking for me, I don't look down on you because you're single. In fact, I wish you the best in finding what I've found, or better. But I will look down on you if you're a crabby little piece of shit and ruin my day. The reason I know you're jealous is because the minute you get a partner, your former sour attitude on the holiday... where is that? Poof. Just gone. You're happy as a clam. Timmy got me flowers and took me out to a movie... he went to a chick flick for me! We, like, made out through half of it, though. Barf on you!
This is less coherent and more... angry than most of my rants. But, oh well. I'm crabby myself today (for reasons unrelated to the occasion) and I don't feel like making up pretty words for you.
Hehe. "Lardass."
February 13, 2003 - 4:37 PM
I wrote two switch statements right off the top of my head. And they worked. JavaScript is my bitch.
I am in dire need of a life.
Cartoon versions of me, courtesy of my friend Joey.
B+ W rough pencil sketch
Finished colour copy
I love 'em. Gotta love that hair. And those pants.
Aaron is a jerkface.
If your name is Aaron, and you're a jerkface... screw your ass.
A dear friend of mine is dating this guy Aaron who is absolutely terrible to her. He doesn't hit her, but he's... controlling of her. Likely trying to be subtle about that fact, but failing in my eyes. She's currently on a diet, and has lost nearly forty pounds since September, I think. Which my boyfriend Adam and I both praise for being an excellent accomplishment. But, that's not good enough for Aaron. He tells her she could be losing the weight faster.
Yeah, she could, dumbass - if she had a strong wish to become anorexic and die.
He's committed two other sins that are even more unacceptable and angering to me, though:
- forbidding her to dye her hair any of the bright blues and greens she fantasizes about,
- and pressing her to get breast implants.
Any guy that even breathed the hint of me getting implants would have a steel-toed boot in his ass. How can any man want this of a woman? How would he feel if I were to bother him to get his penis enlarged? It's exactly the same thing, genders reversed.
As for my hair... it's mine and I'll do whatever the fuck I like with it. If you don't like it, here, a steel-toed boot. Shove it up your own ass! Again, a guy wouldn't like being told to change or not to change his hair. It's hair, for fuck's sake. It's superficial. Inner beauty is what matters.
Aaron is a big jerkoff for being ashamed to walk down the street next to the girl he supposedly loves if she has blue hair. Even more so for not wanting to kiss her because she's "fat." I'm extremely glad and fortunate that the men in my life are extreme antitheses of this dickwad.
The End.
February 12, 2003 - 9:58 AM
I'm in school at this very moment. My teacher's a cool enough guy, but his jargon about database connectivity and JScript syntax is boring the living shit out of me. I'm too sleepy and hungry to pay attention now.
Tomorrow will be a good day. Wrestling night at Joel's! I must remember to start laying out my clothes the night before school in the morning. The outfits I come up with at 7:05 a.m. when I have five minutes to get ready to leave are atrocious.
My boyfriend's going to Toronto on Sunday and won't be back until Wednesday. I may positively wither up and die.
February 11, 2003 - 8:24 AM
I don't even know why I started this. As if one online diary, a paper one, and the rest of my busy life isn't enough for me.
I'm hungry.
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