June 5, 1998

I think I'm depressed. In fact, I know I am. I just saw the uplifting happiness that is Truman, and I want to sleep under the dryer...just for the night.

I've been meaning to write. I wrote notes on May 27th, but never filled in anything. I'm going to post and entry in a few days that I wrote Wednesday in class, but I don't want to type it up now. So I'll be posting last Wednesday's entry after this one. I'm sure there's some "Bad journaler! Bad!" stigma associated with that, but I'm just to tired to care. And slightly too blonde.

Oh...here's my notes from the other day...read them while I clear my thoughts.

May 27, 1998 -- I'd rather be in a coma.

second day of classes
teacher on crack.
physical humor.
fanfic
dirty room
soup place
Baxter's escape
Kashmir a la Puffy
Damn these ho's.

None of it makes much sense unless you're me. I'm sorry. I have some entertaining stories to match some...but I'm not very funny so I won't relate-and-ruin as I am apt to do.

I wrote my journal on the wrong side of the paper. It's looseleaf...I'm not going really batty and saying copy paper has sides, clearly labeled. No...but everyone understands which side is the "right" side. The front. When the holes are on the left. Everyone understands that except you damned lefties...and even then only sometimes! Damn lefties. And don't try to defend yourselve either! I know your kind! My sister is a lefty!!!

Maybe I am going batty.

I just want to go to sleep. My head hurts.

I enjoyed the Truman show. It earned all the stars they gave it. Baxter knows how to get out of his cage now. I had to tie the door shut. I cleaned the cage too. Smells better.

I'm going to bed. I need to sleep.

The little flusher doo-dad on the toilet says American Standard. Just thought you might like to know.