Straight hair, new cell phone, and beauty magazines won't put me down anymore (so ha).
Thursday, 11/11/04 - 9:11 pm.

I got my hair straightened this morning. It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, but I got two or five nice comments at the university from people, and I also got a marriage proposal. But that's from Joseph, no big surprise...wait, actually, it was. He'd stopped asking me to marry him. I kind of missed that.

Speaking of fuckers, Joseph was having a particularly good day today. And he finally got a cell phone. Each of us has a contract with a different company, but I happily discovered that I can still send him text messages from my own cell phone. He still can't use the device (the tamagotchi, as he calls it), so I offered to set the ring tone. All sounds were lame, and unless he got a call after leaving me this afternoon, he doesn't know I chose Jingle Bells.

Irene and I had a deadline this afternoon, to turn in the magazine we'd worked so hard on for a couple of weeks. She's always late, so we turned it in just five minutes before the deadline. I was panicking. Irene (and all my university friends, for that matter), makes me suffer, as she clearly admitted. But in the end everything turned out ok,'s ok. I hope we earn that goddamn point (it was worth one, ONE point).

Tangent: being the political animal I am, I learned a little about Arafat, after discovering he'd passed away. I always heard his name on the news, but to my own surprise, I realized I was a completely ignorant on who he was, so I did a little research (investigative, aren't I?). I hate to make the simple division of "good guy" and "bad guy", but for what I've learned since yesterday, he was a nice guy.

This morning at the beauty parlor I was horrified by an old woman who did her hair...well, she looked like an animal in mating season. Ugh, disgusting. But that's not what I was going to say.

I was reading the magazines...Cosmopolitan, Vanity Fair and the like. The type that makes you lose brain cells with the ocassional acquisition of useless knowledge (I could use some sex tips, but I'm still inhibited by the sexual intercourse). Oh, but you know it's my guilty pleasure.

Usually, my self-esteem would collapse at the sight of all those "beautiful girls". But I've realized they're nothing without diets and make-up. You know what happens when a celebrity who never leaves home without make-up on DOES leave home without make-up on? It's all OHMYGOD, WHAT WAS SHE THINKING? SHE LOOKS TERRIBLE. Slaves, that's what they are. The poor things.

So well...I've been complimented here and there. "You're pretty", "You look nice today"...and even though sometimes I don't feel like that in front of the mirror, I don't depend on heavy diets and exaggerated amounts of make-up. I like to take care of myself (even if I suck at keeping an exercise routine) without faking my looks.

Oh, hey. I dreamed of Joe. I dreamed we were at a fast food restaurant with JC and with another guy who was sexually harrasing me. JC said to Joe and me that people thought we had a thing going on and that it'd be nice if we got married.

Ok, I should call Freud, because I'd like an accurate interpretation of that dream and I'm too lazy to do it myself (oh, I know how to do it *puts modesty aside*). I'm gathering all the things I thought or did the days the fact that I was the one who said "I think Joe and that girl have a thing going on" a couple of entries ago. My Super Ego is going squirrely on me.

My friend Angel helped me reinstall the awful SPSS, so now I have no excuse to slack off, and I must go back to work.

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