I just had a chocolate-chip Pop-Tart. Yum.

Adam and I are going out later for pizza and to see The Hulk.

This may seem like a pretty good-natured post, but I haven't been feeling well the past few days. Not emotionally, not physically, not at all.

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I am so, so tired of my hair. What do you think?

My natural brown, with white layers beneath and two blue strips in the front?

My natural brown with strips of blue, purple, red, and/or black in the front?

Or, my natural brown with two strips in the front that fade to purple and then blue or bright red?

I'm going with brown because I'm getting tired of freezing my head in the sink, tired of fighting off fading, and I soon have to start scouting for a job (gag, gag) in the IT field. Two months of that, and I'll probably be out on the streets looking for coffee-shop employment, which will probably please me more than programming. If that happens, I can go back to the full heads of crazy colours.

I've been favouring purple and red lately.

I've got nothing planned all day. And I like it. I'm now officially on my week off. Joel and I spent some spontaneous time together yesterday... we went down to the river to see the spire shoot off. The spire, for clarification, is a row of five powerful water jets that were installed last year into one of the old bridge piers in the middle of the river, that, for fifteen minutes at the start of every hour, shoot water from the river a hundred feet up into the air. Yesterday was great for fantasizing that I could be under the mist as it fell back into the river - it was a smoking 30+ degrees outside. My car felt like the inside of an oven every time I had to get in.

Anyway, we went down to the rocky shore and sat and threw rocks into the water and flicked ants off of our legs and had some serious conversation about my fears about us. Those being, that I'm afraid I have nothing exclusive or special left to give that too many of his friends haven't gotten from me already, and that I'm afraid a failed relationship between us could cost us a five-year friendship, or at least, render it so it was never the same.

And when the spire came on, we walked back up onto the bridge and leaned over the rail together, him behind me with his arms around. It was silent for a long time, before I broke it with a dirty comment about people behind us possibly thinking we were publicly fucking because my skirt was so short it barely covered my ass and for all they'd know, he could have his zipper down. I noticed after that that he moved off to the side a bit. I probably shouldn't have made that comment. (smiles)

Looking down into the water, our shadows were visible, forming one, the shape of a couple in a very cute pose. I made my head dance. Then we saw a silver fish squiggle by, unusually big to be that close to shore. I figured the breaking waves from the passing Carleton II tour ship may have coaxed it in.

We didn't kiss. Yay, us.

I'm not good for you. Please, realize this, and let me go.

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I'm sorry, Joey. I just didn't want to feel judged and hated, by you of all people - considering you've loved me for so long despite all my many faults. I felt you coming down hard on me when it just wasn't necessary. Earlier yesterday, in fact, Joel had sent me a sad e-mail pleading for me to help him stop kissing me. We've vowed, for the moment, that that must stop. The otherwise "acting like my boyfriend," depending on your definition of that, may not, though. We'll still hug, and we've deemed forehead kisses and such acceptable, considering, Joey, you still give them to me. And that's okay.

I feel it. He will get his chance at me, though. If too many days like yesterday go down, I just won't be able to hold on.

I'm thinking of giving up my FreeOpenDiary (henceforth referenced as FOD). It's just such a pain in the ass to log in, feel obligated to check all my Favourites, and type up an entry full of substance and HTML. Here I can show up, write whatever crap I want, and leave. My more personal entries have been going into my Blurty, because it's unavailable to anyone I don't want reading it (but, to quote Joel, "not too hard to find").

Ergh... but I was going to write a kiss-ass paragraph to David in there. He's going to call again tonight, apparently. I'm no less nervous than I was about the first time. I'm afraid this time I'll go blank on conversation, that I exhausted everything I had to say last time.

Maybe I'll just thin out my Favourites.

My skirt is super-super mini today.

Adam did another road test yesterday. He failed, making this his third botch. Though, he has been driving me around more often in my car, for example, home from Joel's at after two this morning when I was so tired I could barely walk straight.

We were mistaken - Joel's cat had six kittens. We were all in his room last night on his bed with kittens crawling and sleeping all around us. I couldn't stop touching, holding, kissing, and squealing gibberish at them. Kitties! I love kitties....

I wish the school day was over.... I brought my car in today, and arrived fifteen minutes late. I've been here half an hour, and already I'm craving a maple-dip doughnut, the warm weather outside, sunglasses on top of my head and the ability to look into Joel's eyes. Eh.... Maybe I'll go work on my online portfolio - tweak the ExecuteNonQuery().

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Roger asked a fair question of me in my last entry's comments: whether or not I was still with Adam.

Time to be honest. Adam reads this, and I do sincerely apologize if he reads this particular entry and finds out that people on the Internet know his humiliation before he does.

I am with Adam. I love Adam. I want to continue to be with Adam. But, things just haven't been the same lately... somehow. Oh, he's been the same sweet, doting man as ever, but, my feelings have been different - shifting toward another target: Joel.

The real confession here is that Joel and I have engaged in some light amorous acting-about - some Adam knows about, some he does not. I would not hesitate to say that I am cheating on my boyfriend, and rest assured that's not an easy thing to admit, to realize you've been doing, to live with the guilt of, but to put an end to, either. Have you ever been in a relationship? You know how perfect everything feels in the beginning, how you can't get enough, you want it all, all the time, all right now? You fight that feeling harder when the relationship is forbidden than you would if it weren't, but in the end, the same thing ends up happening. You sneak a little, you think just a little will sate your appetite, and then you'll be overcome by guilt and go running loyally back to the one you're supposed to be with. I, too, thought the answer to my problem lay in this: in letting myself misbehave, and letting it make me feel so bad for hurting Adam that I'd never look at Joel with those stars in my eyes again.

But it wasn't. I wasn't overcome by enough guilt to stop me from anticipating more, from wanting the "relationship" to progress, from feeling that desire for all of it now. And having succumbed to the temptation once made it so much easier to do it again, and again, and again, because what the hell, the damage was done.

This is where you hate and dump me, Adam, if you wish. I don't want that, but I deserve it.

And now, this from Joey:

You two... I can't be around you anymore. Not when you're doing something like this to Adam. You can both say you care about him, but the fact of the matter is, your caring doesn't stop either of you from continuing with the deceit. If you won't tell Adam or stop this for fear of losing him, then you're going to lose me instead because friendship is based on loyalty and trust and I don't feel any of that from you two. Wake me up when it's over and I don't feel like there's a knife with my name on it waiting somewheres.

I'm finding Joey to be a bit abrasive about our situation. So quick to tell us what we should and should not be doing, and to judge without knowing the facts... Does he not remember that he had sex with some guy's girlfriend?

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^ This is a twenty-four-foot oarfish, caught by members of the U.S. Army in 1996. One of these was recently spotted off the coast of New Brunswick. Only a few of these deep-sea dwellers are spotted per century. They can get up to sixty feet long and can swim vertically - point their heads toward the sun and swim up.

Wow.

The sea really is a mystery to us. I didn't even know these things existed until I heard this story on the radio this morning and started snooping around on the Internet for a picture I could use. [Another photo?]

I thought I saw a mirror this morning, in the middle of the sidewalk. I blinked, and looked again. It was a girl with my hair colour. Oh, it was a bit shorter, and there was evidence of a rich turquoise at her roots, where the dye, I know from experience, must have reacted with the bleach. She was lovely. I felt inferior in comparison.

Misty came over last night. We drank red Kool-Aid, ate chips, and talked and talked and talked.

My test is today. I should go do some studying. I get to leave school at a decent hour today; my mother's coming to pick me up at three. I get to see Joel tomorrow. Rah! (pumps fist)

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I found a pair of boots on eBay similar to the flame boots Adam wants. I may put a bid in on them closer to the end of the auction.

I thought I had a test in Java today, but it's tomorrow. Which is great, because I was cramming in the car this morning, panicking. I would pass without studying, but I feel bad for cashing in on my ability to get good grades without studying, when at least one of my classmates studies her heart out and gets lower scores than me. Plus, it gives me no sense of achievement to have paid $15,500 to take this course and half-ass everything and come out of every challenge knowing that I could have done better.

I felt that way at graduation this year, watching the prizes being given out. Some students took home hauls of over $10,000 in scholarships, bursaries, and prizes. It may have been just me, or the fact that I wasn't losing consciousness as much as I was last year among the graduates, sitting and sweating and wishing I was elsewhere, but this clump of graduates seemed to be winning a ton more prizes than my grad class. I was proud of them, watching the joy and surprise on their faces when they walked up the ramp to receive their money, and I thought, I could have been doing this. I could have done better.

My Physics grade, a 76%, fucked me off the principal's honour roll, the criteria for which states that the student get no grade below 80%. And I know I could have gotten a better grade than that. All the half-finished assignments I didn't even bother to pass in because I hadn't finished them... shit, I could have gotten something if I'd at least passed in what I had, and the teacher kept telling me this with an amused but stern demeanour. All the class time I spent talking to Joey, Adrienne, and Andrew; staring at Adam half-asleep against the window; staring at Joel curled up in his chair at the front of the room - I could have been getting those damn assignments done.

But, oh well. Nothing to be done about it now.

I still won twenty bucks, and got to stand out.

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Re-post from my online diary:


I returned from camping, with stiff joints, dirty blue hair, bug-bitten arms and legs, dirt under my fingernails, and filthy wet feet, reeking of sunblock, sweat, and bug spray, exhausted, and content.

The view of the lake and the tree-covered cliff from the back deck, as always, was breathtaking. Unfortunately, I neglected to realize that my camera had no film inside, so pictures will have to wait until I return from our next trip, which will probably be in August.

The sun was beating down heavily on the land around us, and the water felt gorgeous in contrast. We decided to go for a swim at a neighbouring dock, which we discovered was harbouring tons and tons of leeches only after we were all in the water and Willie was bitten - after which we ran for shore like panicked cartoon characters. Ryan and I were too scared to even touch the bottom when we got near the shore, and Joel had to hoist us out onto the dock.

Early evening, I accidentally napped on the bed in the corner with windows on three sides overlooking the surrounding nature. When I woke up, Willie and Ryan headed outside for some maryjane, Joey barbecued me some nachos, and we sat down at the table to play Risk. Whether we were all just tired or we got slightly high from the smell clinging to the two who had smoked three joints of pot each, we had great laughs, specifically when Willie's dice knocked over some armies in Australia and he announced that he had bombed them.

When dark had fallen, we took the canoe and flashlights out to retrieve a free-floating raft, and pulled it in to our shore. The water looked like glass - deep glass, with still leaves and darting fish making up the levels.

The next day was not as sunny in the morning, but shaped up to be just as lovely. I spent a lot of time sitting on the deck, my forehead against the wooden rail, my legs dangling from the edge, looking out over the water, lost in pleasant thought. I was eventually joined by the group, save for Adam and Joey who were washing dishes. We killed a couple of dogflies and watched a black ant have his fill of the dead. Willie ventured down to the shore to catch a frog (which slipped out of his fist), and from there, we got the idea to catch leeches. We filled a litre-bottle with them and watched them swim around, hypnotically. Like a lava lamp, they were.

At about five o'clock, we packed everything up in my little Sable and headed up the rough dirt roads. We were very, very packed - the trunk was full, and we still had to store a buttload of sleeping bags and duffel bags and pillows on our laps. Joey drove, and to give him room to move his arms to steer, I leaned into Joel, setting my head on his shoulder, resting my eyes for moments on and off. I saw some cows in a field along the highway. Joel and I mooed at them.

And Ryan didn't talk excessively about his girlfriend. (smiles)

Got home, threw in some old episodes of wrestling I'd had yet to catch up on, and ripped into a huge bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. Joey and Joel shared in both with me. The former left around ten. Joel stayed until eleven or so.

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I'm going to be gone for a couple days. Overnight party at Joey's camp, sort of thing.

I'm sick. I hate being sick. Not that anyone loves it, really.

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I want to go to Japan. I want to live in Tokyo for a year. The only thing better than a big city is a big foreign city.

Joel's sister found kittens in their barn! There were originally four, but Joel's mother later found a fifth, which the four dogs was trying to eat. We spent the evening in Joel's room with two of them, a grey-and-white male and a dark grey female. Adam and I named them, respectively, Zelia (zee-lee-ah) and Kiara (kee-ah-rah). Joel says I can have Zelia. I'm going to try to buy my mom over - I know she won't go for it, though. And how would my cat react? Oh, but they're so adorable. Little, so little, balls of fur. They fit in the palm of my hand! I swear I bonded with Zelia. He was shaking and backing away from everything when Taleia first brought him in, but I petted him and cooed to him and he snuggled into my thigh and slept, and when he woke, started creeping all over me with his little sharp claws. And when she came back in to get him, he cried at being carried away.

I want it I want it I want it I want it I want it!

These five new additions puts Joel's cat total up to - he claims he's counted - twenty-one.

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To the prom, I ended up wearing a black velvet knee-length dress with a red low-cut shirt over it, fishnets, which annoyed me all night by bunching at the top, and a red spiked collar. Adam was sexy. Black jeans, a white dress shirt, his usual pentagram necklace and his usual handcuffs through his two front belt loops, his dark hair long, loose and shaggy, wearing sunglasses. Yum.

Catherine looked gorgeous. (Readers of my old FOD might remember me mentioning her. I've had a crush on her for the longest time.) Like a fucking angel coming down those stairs for the grand march. Simple, silky, white strapless dress, her naturally red and gold hair down and straight, a refreshing change from the many, many curly updos. I swear when she appeared at the top of the stairs, I lost the air from my lungs. She seemed to float, and she did beautifully despite her shyness, which was evident in her smile. Didn't falter. Ahh, I love her, and I don't even know her.

Laura fell at the bottom of the stairs. She got up, laughing sheepishly, and the show went on.

The lights and music died on another couple, Kyle and his date. They didn't flinch, as I would have, I would have stood there getting nervous inside. His date, especially, just continued with her clockwise posing, slow gait, and great big dazzling grin.

Maggie and Billy came out in sunglasses, and she raised her arm in a triumphant diva pose for photos.

Cody arrived in full white tux, tailcoat, gloves, top hat and cane, and silver tie.

Shelley's smouldering date - long, silky blond hair, clear light eyes, labret pierced - dressed down. Cargo-like black pants and an open black sport coat. Every time I saw him, I noted to Adam, "Hot duuude!" He'd smile and roll his eyes.

Holly looked stunning, as did Michelle. Michelle's dress was gorgeous, a sheer dark purple with black decor. Holly wore her hair down. I've never seen her with her hair down. She's of Chinese descent, I think, but with pale skin, bright blue eyes, and wavy dark hair. She wore red lipstick. Awesome.

Crystal wore black silk. Yummy. Black. I didn't see a single other woman in the march wear a black dress.

The Japanese exchange student (Mazuki, or something) wore a short black sundress with big bursts of colour, and her hair was up in a spunky style with strands sticking out... er, like a palm tree, to make a crappy metaphor. I loved it. When she came out, I first thought, "I want to do her." (This was only my second time seeing her.) My second thought was to admire her effort to be different, and intelligent about such an overhyped, overly-dressy event.

At the very end of last night, after a perfect night, Adam and I fought, and I left his house on bad terms. I kept expecting him to call back, but he didn't, and when I tried to call him several times, the line was busy.

I dreamed last night that he and I were trying to take a shower together in my bathroom and my father kept yelling and trying to break in and my mother kept trying to get in and give me passionate lectures about the birds and the bees. Again, as I've found is becoming more common in my dreams, I found myself trying, and failing, to scream. Either my mouth wouldn't open, or the sound would come out as a cracking squeak.

For awhile, my dreams would let me scream. Now, again, they don't seem to be. I wonder what this means. I must be feeling trapped, oppressed by something again.

Graduation is tonight, so I get to leave school at three. I'd rather leave now. I'm booored. Already. And only half an hour of my school day is gone.

I miss Joel.

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America. Land of the free. The freedom to roam under its star spangled skies from Disneyland on the west coast to Disney World on the east coast. Unless, that is, you happen to be of Arab ethnicity. Then you get detained at the airport and humiliated even if you're a Republican. It's strange that following the Oklahoma City Bombing rental agencies didn't stop renting trucks and vans to white people.

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I'm going to start polluting my blog entries with quotes from Matt Good's journal.

Today's:

"Specific" intelligence has been received that al-Qaeda is planning assaults on hotels, apartment buildings and other "lightly secured" targets. –CBC News

How many Americans live in apartment buildings? Is a house considered "lightly secured"? How about an RV? What "specific" intelligence? Why can't all those Americans living in "lightly secured" targets take a look at it? What would it look like do you suppose?

Dear American pig dogs, we are planning terrorist strikes against all Howard Johnson's and other "lightly secured" targets in your country.

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I don't really have anything to say, but I haven't written in here for awhile.

I got my hair cut. Never fear - I only cut off about an inch, to get rid of the split black ends. Today I'll bug my mom about at least bleaching my brown roots out. She's been putting me off on it forever.

Saturday night, I got two new miniskirts and a shirt - well, an army-green mini, a black mini-skort, and a lovely clingy, low-cut, velvety black tee.

Next weekend is our camp party. I'm looking forward to it, and these days haven't been as distressed about the Adam-me-Joel triangle as before. Releasing the tension in such a questionable fashion does wonders for my morbid curiosities, I guess.

Adam, get the fuck up. He turns into a real grump when he's half-awake in the morning. He whimpers, and whines, and hmmphs, but won't tell me what he wants. I have to guess. Are you cold? / Hmmph. / You want nugglin's. / Hmm-mm-mm! / Want me to pull the blind down? / Hmmph. / Grr. I think I do it, too, but... bleh, it's so annoying to be on the receiving end.

I played Smackdown until one a.m. last night. I did Tessica over again, a complete makeover. I don't know if I like it. I'll have to load it up today and get a second first impression.

I'm home from school today for a stupid reason. My stomach was being hurty all day yesterday, so much that I hardly ate anything all day. My supper, at ten p.m., consisted of a tuna sandwich and some green grapes. This morning when I woke up, it hurt again, but after I got up and around, the pain faded. Now I only get little bursts of it. I could have gone to school. Blast. I'm missing the first day of Java, meaning, I'll be totally lost tomorrow.

I'm hungry. Time for lunch. I feel like tomato soup.

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How uniform your beautiful is.


I've been on a real Matt Good binge lately. To counter for my previous Evanescence binge, I guess, though I do still love that band. I've concluded that Matt Good's best stuff was between 'Underdogs' and 'Audio of Being' (the third CD in that beloved set being 'Beautiful Midnight'). Be warned, Stephie, if you haven't heard any of his stuff by the time you come visit me, you'll hear it to death.


Dreams of the sea, caught way inland....


I had real bad cramps last night at Joel's. I feel stupid, 'cause he and Adam were playing Balder's Gate and I was frequently jerking on the bed between them, holding my stomach. I slept on and off to combat the pain, but it didn't work. I got home, and, we'll just say I was kind of sick. I felt better after that, so I slept all night, but they're bugging me a bit now. Nowhere near as bad as they were last night, though. Tolerable today.

</end icky-to-guys bit>

Joel's brother is great. He teases us, and Joel about me. I think he thinks Joel likes me. Adam swore in front of his girlfriend's young son. She scolded him lightly. I think I acted like an idiot yesterday in general. First too bouncy, then all sick-like. I kept mumbling, "I'm sorry..."

Quit apologizing.

Mmm... I love him. I miss him. And damn it, I miss Rae.

But, I get to see the former of the two today. In less than an hour and a half. I can't wait.

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I am booooooooored. This day is crawling. I get to see Joel later, but later's not now. I've done shit-all all day. My skin's all dry and hot, and I'm parched, and my teeth need to be brushed. But, hey, I'm wearing butt pants and my spiky belt, at least. Ooh, I love this nice weather, and getting to wear my skanky, gothy, cold-weather-unfriendly clothes.

Joey came to see me for lunch. We went to Quizno's. Mmm... oven subs. He got a Spicy Monterey Jack. I had a bite. And he bought me a surprise bag of salsa Doritos! I get to see him and Joel both for lunch tomorrow, too.

Speaking of surprises... someone's about to find out that I had one in mind for them. (wink, wink)

Adam tried for his licence again this morning. I won't know until tonight whether he passed or not. I hope he got it this time.

He spent last night with me. We got into a cute, fun fight in which he tried to steal my blanket and I screamed such phrases as, "NO! NO! MY BLANKET! MINE!" He took my cookie, but not before I wrestled it to my mouth and took a great big bite. Then he stole my blankie, my stuffed bunny, and gave me a wedgie. Then I had no cookie, no blankie, no bunny, and a hurty butt. Mopems. (grins) Adam's so much fun.

Joel, you get to see my new Tessica tonight.... Adam didn't say anything positive or negative, aside from to gripe that she was kicking his ass for a minute there when he fought her, at my request, in a 3 Stages of Hell.

My Jessie lost her Cruiserweight belt in a TLC Title Fatal 4-Way, too. (sad face) I tried, but I just plain suck ass at ladder matches. The Hurricane got it. That little green worm.

Forty-five more minutes... ugh... of this.... I'll die. I swear I'll die.

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I went to Misty's last night. We ate junk food, played videogames, and poured our hearts out to each other. It felt sooo good. I need to be with that girl more often. I love her!

She and I are both having relationship problems. Not to go into terrible detail about hers, because it's not my place, but her boyfriend just graduated, and she feels he's sacrificing his dream to move back to his native Toronto and pursue a rock-music career, to be stuck with her in Fredericton going to college to merely study media. She's having to contend with the possibilities of moving in with him, them splitting up after nearly three years, suffering a long-distance relationship, the whole transition between high school and college, all over again. (She graduated with me, last year.)

As for mine, I feel better; she's such a help in that regard. When I feel like all I'll get from anyone else is hugs and apologies (which I do appreciate), she's been where I've been, or if not, has an uncanny knack for relating and sympathizing and not judging and just having the right words and an objective, extremely-intuitive point of view. It's nice to know that she's been through some of the things I'm shouldering now, and come out on the other end of them; it gives me faith that I can, and will, too. It makes me feel so much less alone.

I've resolved, yet again, to stay with Adam for the time being. I haven't talked to him for a couple of days; our calls are just missing each other. I miss the boy. We had set a dinner date for this weekend, which I want to keep, and am trying not to let myself look forward to too excitedly in case there's another reason I haven't been able to get ahold of him: he's been avoiding me, or in case he makes the decision I've been convinced I wanted him to make for the past couple of weeks.

I stayed there until four this morning. I cut school today, needing the sleep. So here I am, on my bed, 4:30, typing this, deafening myself with Evanescence MP3s, and needing a shower.

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I put up a new layout at my site this morning.

I'm going to Misty's tonight, to spend some time with a girl. I plan on ratting this whole Adam-Joel situation to her. She always has good advice and/or ways to cheer me up.

Speaking of cheer-ups, I wore eyeliner and my b+w capris, optimistically, and the sun came out at noon hour. Furthermore, Joey and Joel came to meet me for lunch. god, I missed you.... It gets harder to let go every time. I wonder if I look as good in the shorts as the latter predicted I would. He wrote me a very sweet poem at the end of his last e-mail.

Agh... I still haven't done my damn cover letter. And I have to pass my store in. I'm leaving to do that now.

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It's like a tremendous weight pressing down on my lungs, this realization, this waiting. I hate it, I can't breathe very well, and what little air I do take in isn't savoured, but necessary for me to stay alive. It tastes stale and terrible, like the dirt under the weight. My eyes see only darkness, my muscles are tense, panic lurks in every corner I cast my gaze into, seeking escape. I'm trapped. I want to run, but I need to be pushed. I don't have the will to move, to leave what I'm convinced should be a comfortable spot, to live.

He pushed me out the other day. The other pulled me out. You freed me. But then, I was pulled back. My foot was caught, I fell, I hit the dirt, and the wind was knocked from me again. I can't breathe anymore. I breathed the other day, when I couldn't breathe at all. I want to breathe like that again. I want the weight to crush me until I die, and open my eyes and be in heaven, where the air tastes like strawberries and I can get my fill.

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Let's play a game. Shall we? Let's not mention Adam for the next little while.

I'm done my damn store, at least. Now I have to write a cover letter for a job I'm not really applying for, which is good because I would bomb at it. I hate programming.

It's only Monday, and I miss him. I've never missed him so much so early in the week. I only made things harder, didn't I? That didn't make the bottle any lighter. All I did was put a break in it, and now you've got to catch what comes out of the bottle in another. Now you've got two bottles, a burden that's even harder to carry than just one. Crap. I feel like shit. But not because of you. I've got to end this. Adam, run.

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There are june bugs pounding at my window screen, trying to get in. I hate those little bastards.

Um... hmm. I don't really have anything to say. Or at least, nothing that I want to say in here. I'm currently at work at a long, revealing entry for my FreeOpenDiary; those of you with access to that will have to wait until tomorrow for my big news.

My PC is now worm-free, thanks to my smart brother Ian. So today I scanned and added two new photos to my site. In one, I'm grinning; in the other, holding a baby. Two things I never thought someone would catch me dead doing, much less on film.

I'm suddenly craving nachos with salsa and melted mozzarella and to play Smackdown. I haven't played it in like a week. Cole's been playing Yu-Gi-Oh! and Vice City and Ian and Tyler have been popping in DVDs. I haven't been able to play with my purple friend, either, 'cause he's loud and Tyler sleeps in the next room.

My store is due tomorrow. I'll have it done, and I'll have to do my cover-letter assignment after that. Grr to work. Keeping me from finishing Rae's long-overdue letter.

Well, I'm going to end this now, before I bore anyone to death with my drivel. 'Night, all.

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My ears just went deaf, and I could hear my pulse in my head. I was loving the silence, but unfortunately, the rush of the air exchangers swept it away.


On the opposite sex:
-- Best eye color: Dark. Dark eyes just suck me in.
-- Best hair color: Bright blue. And no, I do not have the answers to these questions flipped around.
-- Best personality trait: Intelligent and sardonic.
-- Best height: A little taller than me.
-- Best weight: It's not so much the number that matters, as this varies depending on the guy's height. I like a guy with softness where I want it and muscle where I want that. Trust me when I say it isn't hard to find. I'm not picky.
-- Best articles of clothing: Spiky, studded, punky things.
-- Best date location: An art gallery, perhaps, then out to eat pizza and ice cubes from the bottom of our glasses with our fingers for some fun, returning to the seriousness with a dip in moon-lit water.
-- Best first kiss location: Somewhere... unconventional... too perfect in my romance-novel-like mentality. It's not the where that matters, it's the who. If the person is the right one, any place will feel perfect.


Joel whipped my ass on an IQ test by twenty-five points, and apparently my IQ is higher than 90% of the population's. (According to that same test, Adam's is eleven points lower than mine.) Wow. I won't give out the numbers, but I have to wonder if that boy doesn't approach genius, because in every other regard, I see him as one. I do so admire a man with a big... brain. Really, I mean that.

I got my black-and-white capris. They're fucking badass - I love them. But, they're tight on me, meaning, I apparently wear an American size seven. I'm currently debating between paying to ship them back for the next biggest size, and modifying them myself. Mom's going to check the washing instructions to see if they'd shrink, or soften if we washed them.

This is what I got Joel with that order, in case you wondered.

I found a site from which I can buy all colours of thigh-high fishnets, and if I buy three or more pairs at at time, they're only five bucks American apiece. I'm thinking blue, burgundy, and white, if not more. Huzzah to fishnets. I wish it would stop raining and get nice out so I could wear them and my skanky skirts.

Oh my gawd! The sun was just out for two seconds. Damn you, sun, for getting my hopes up.

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Adam failed the pull-in park at the end. He thought he was inside the lines, but a back wheel was a little tiny bit over one.

On top of that, he's got to work today, Friday and Saturday. Meaning, he doesn't want to go with us to the movies this weekend and he doesn't want to come to Joel's for our Smackdown ritual tonight.

Something really bad's going on. But I don't want to talk about it yet.

Man... I am really fucking sick of being their rope... their dog toy.

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how do we explain
something that took us by surprise
promises in vain
love that is real but in disguise
what happens now?
do we break another rule?
I don't know how to stop feeling this way
I think that I've been true
to everybody else but me
and the way I feel about you
makes my heart long to be free
every time I look into your eyes
I'm helplessly aware
that the someone I've been searching for
is right there
I wish
that I could give you something more
that I could be yours
That song is nothing short of absolute greatness. It's been hitting me particularly hard lately. ('Hold On To the Nights,' Richard Marx)


Poked away at my store yesterday. Now you can register and log in, and the search works. Today I vowed to get a start on the shopping cart. I'll get it to take a basic order, and I'll worry later about dynamically modifying the quantity.

Joey's set a date for another camp party. Oh, his camp is gorgeous. I'll be sure to take my camera this time! It's on a lake, hills, trees, cliffs, drool. The last camp party was disastrous, but the first was excellent. We went canoeing and puddled in the water off the dock and stayed up late and played Risk by the light of oil lamps and all fell asleep in one corner of the room. This time, I want to skinny-dip alone in the middle of the night. So bad. (Joel says he'll spy from the bushes.)

Joey and I would have been together for three years tomorrow next month.

Off to work I go....

Adam tries for his licence today, at about two o'clock. I wish him luck. He's confident in his ability to pass, and I hope, for my own selfish reasons as much as any other, that that confidence pays off.

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You know when you've got a ton of work to do, and not a ton of time to do it in, and you're panicking and stressing and trying not to, trying to convince yourself that it doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, and when you try to do a little, nothing comes to mind, no ideas, no clue what to do or where to begin, and you get so frustrated that you just want to destroy it?

That's how I feel right now. That's what programming does to me.

Fuck this career.

My wrists have snapped more times today than usual. So many, and they hurt. Little bastards. I can't imagine how annoying I must be, snapping my wrists every two or three minutes, loudly in a quiet room.

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It's dark, it's foggy, it's raining, and I want to be outside in it. Life is sad today.

People are starving and dying of AIDS in Africa and I'm down over this. Nice that you have your priorities straight, idiot.

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Tears hitting my lap like the rain's pounding the ground outside my window, my mood as grey as the sky.


It's windy and raining outside. More shrieking sirens have blown down the street past my house today than I can ever remember. I wonder how come.

I've got me-pictures. But I'm too lazy to format and upload them right now. I'll do it tomorrow.

My scanner won't work until I clean the worms off that damn PC. Yay. Motivation.

I think I'll log off, print off the directions to kill those worms, and then update my trite story some more.

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