Tuesday, 02/12/02 - 6:33 pm.

I'm joining Greenpeace in the future. Actually, they should make a sub-organization named Blackpeace. I had an assignment about (*Simeon draws quotation marks in the air with fingers*) "petra oleum". At first we didn't have anything ("we" because it was a group investigation, not schizophrenia). Suddenly, we had about 20 pages on the topic. And Charlie (the science teacher) only wants two. Oh, joy. I got the job of editing it all, which I hate. I wish I could leave everything as it's written, it's all important. It's horrible the way the animals die. Birds drown or starve and takes years to heal the damage and some species just get lost. Mankind sucks. I wish I was a worm.

Tomorrow we have another Graphic Design Commission meeting. I took the brain out of my head and held it and shook it with both hands. And I still can't come up with a "cool pose" for the parrot. I drew him playing yo-yo though.

I'm through a dilemma. There's a nest in my garden (of course I've mentioned it before, Simeon!). And the big birds are fighting. I approached to the nest, since it was abandoned, and I finally saw the twins (geez, they were born...*ahem* hatched almost at the same time, ok?). They're so precious!!! They look like seagulls covered in petroleum (there's a certain contradiction between those two descriptions, I know). But their mommy and daddy haven't come back and it's getting dark. I don't know if I should take them in the house or leave them alone. Their parental units may come back though (they're responsable parents, not like a few millions of miserable homo sapiens).

Nevermind. They're back. Thank God. I hate getting in the middle of nature. You must not intervene on nature's proccess (HEAR THAT, DAMNED "SUPERIOR SPECIES"!!!). Touching them would have meant that mom dumped them out of the nest. And it's bad enough with the nest she got: it's kind of small, and now that the babies are born, there's barely space for the three of them. My maternal unit is afraid that the twins will fall out of the nest when they grow up some more.

There are still two birds fighting, though. I could swear it's one of the parental units against a trespasser or something. Aaawww, I love nature. My garden is even better than Animal Planet.

Veronica had migraine and didn't go to school today. I swear I wouldn't have noticed that, if I hadn't been told. She gets lost, you know? (yes, you do). Anyway, she called and said that she had to left school yesterday, because of it. I swear I didn't notice her absense. Well, actually, that's the point. All I get to see of her is her absense, so not seeing her yesterday was no breaking news for me: aw, she's off with her friends. She called me this afternoon to say hello and that she loved me...aaaawwwww. If only she would have demonstrated that. As a curious fact, she started saying she loved me when she started dumping me for boys and hormones.

Humans suck. And they do not come from monkeys. If men had evolutioned from monkeys, there'd be no monkeys (if men bled, tampons would be free - Steven Tyler [gratuitous quote courtesy of Little Cow Co.]). But man is a monkey. Man is a pig. Man is an ass. Mankind sucks.

I tried to send a message to Brad Whitford (one of Aerosmith's guitarist, dammit). There's this site where you can leave him a happy birthday message (it's on february 23rd) that'll be delivered to him, it's some kind of project (Aerofans do that all the time). I wrote him a little note, and mentioned that I was a fan from "the country of a spanish crown", that I was living "on the coast of a spanish town, in southern...." there. Just like his song. I still can't believe he wrote a song about us, about the real heroes of this country, about the rebels. The song is called Spanish boy, and it's about a 17-year-old (let me raise my hand...I'm seventeen, yo) guy (ok, I'm a girl) who "joins the fight of the rebels". You better make sure what crowd you're with. *tear in left eye*, Brad is going to get a message from *me*, a HUGE fan (probably the only one) who lives in the land he talks about in a must be a that you, God?

Eh, the point is, my message doesn't go through, and most likely will not....I knew it was too good to be true. Yes, it's you, God. Me liking Aerosmith must be a joke (*Simeon crosses arms and exhales in disbelief*).

Speaking of my country, it's gone to hell. There's been riots and such, bus drivers are on strike...oh, joy. Shyeah, who needs Animal Planet...the news has enough beasts on. The bus drivers throw rocks at the police body like apes throwing fruit. The police body sprays them like skunks. The reporters talk like parrots...the kind that are taught to say whatever the owner wants. And the owner is our lame president and all of his sheep, who happen to be the hidden reason why there are riots, and basically why the whole country is fucked up. I think we need more "spanish boys"....uh, heck no. I don't know. It's hard stuff, I'll just cut the political crap.

Frog digs for petroleum, too. Have you seen when dogs scrath the floor or dig holes in the yard? It's because the wolves do that with leaves. No, dogs don't come from wolves, like men don't come from monkeys. Wolves and dogs have a common ancestor; mankind and monkeys have a common ancestor; even wolves and dogs, monkeys and mankind have one common ancestor...

Oh, yeah! that's me. The worm.

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