Sunday, 12/08/02 - 2:52 pm.
I don't understand this keyboard...*tear*... fucker. Help me. Bad keyboard. Very bad.
I see my future now. HAHAHAHAHAHA, losers. I'll get the best (*Simeon's opinion after reading the entry: !?!?!?!?!?!?!*) of Aerosmith.
The odd human being I'm in love with didn't log in last night, and to forget about him, I watched Chocolat again on HBO. It didn't help. Because it was on at 11 o'clock, and the only reason I watched it was because, in words of Simeon, it was going to be at Depp o'clock. But halfway through the movie, I wanted to go to bed.
I woke up at 8 o'clock this morning, and took a nap in the sofa in front of the TV, so technically I woke up at 9 o'clock.
Last night, Alan and I decorated the christmas tree. Maybe it's because of it, but I've been sort of merry these past hours. I mean, the house looks colorful and my mom hung paper bells from the ceiling. I feel very lame when I walk below them, but there's not much to do. They're entertaining.
This morning I started to feel my new life. I have to make phone calls to school and to talk about my driving lessons. I had to call Adri and Elsy, because I had the thought of sending them christmas cards, too.
I panic when I'm going to make phone calls. I get terrified, I freak out. When I was dialing Elsy's number, my left lung was pounding, beating, like it was my heart. My left lung rocks. I didn't get to talk to her the first time, and until I wasn't talking to her, I had butterflies in my stomach.
Yeah, laugh at me. You'll suffer a horrid death when diabolic dwarfs jump out of your telephone and eat you alive. Think of me when they rip off your flesh.
I got their addresses, and now I just need to finish Denver's card. I felt embarrased and reluctant and hesitating and ashamed when I was writing his name on the envelope. I don't know why. Maybe because his parents will see it and will think something about me, and they might even throw it away...he may throw it away himself, or maybe he'll get a christmas card from that Christine in L.A. (don't ask, that's all I know about her...he hints one name or another here and there) and he won't care about mine...lots of things.
Tomorrow I have nothing to do, except for calling the ESJ to ask them for some documents that I need for the UCA, and the driving lessons academy (I don't know which one yet).
On tuesday, I have to go to the UCA and pay the UCA course.
On wednesday, I'm getting the PAES results at the ESJ and hopefully picking up the documents I'll ask for tomorrow. I'm also taking the christmas greetings cards to the post office and looking for christmas presents for my nephews and niece and maybe, just maybe, getting a t-shirt, a pair of jeans or an album (The Strokes or The White Stripes...sometimes it sucks to have the entire Aerosmith catalogue, there's nothing else to look for).
And all of this will be done by yours truly, being driven around by her own daddy that complains he gets to be the family driver.
Actually, yes. Yes, he is. I can't drive yet, and my mom is psychologically unable to do so (she panics on the streets and drives amusingly slow).
I'm picturing what my conversations tomorrow on the phone will be like. I'm scared I'll start speaking elvish, or dead tongues and they won't understand me. Or viceversa.
By the way, talking to Elsy brought consequences: I'm going to the movies next weekend. Joy, yes.
(hey, this is like my 500th entry's Eve...*Simeon throws conffeti*)
Telephonophobia...well, whoever named the phobia to telephones, didn't complicate themselves.