Sunday, 09/15/02 - 3:08 pm.
I want the Monsters Inc. DVD because I want it.
Huh. Today is my 400th entry (not counting the entries with extra stuff like this one and shit).
Something did cheer me up yesterday. Art called me. Cel called me later. That was enough. I don't think it was necessary for them to apologize for what'd happened, but thank you. I love the way they notice when their issues affect me. No one had ever done that for me before.
The nicest thing was when at 8 o'clock at night Art came over just to give me a chocolate muffin. I can say that's probably one of the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. My best friend came to my house at 8 pm with a small bag and said: I went to the supermarket and I bought you the chocolate muffin we've been telling you about. My mom's waiting for me, I've gotta go.
Today I'm not depressed and maybe it's because I haven't been in touch with any of the things that get me depressed. On the other hand, I'm very apathetic because it's sunday and I'm very apathetic on sundays (if that makes sense *cough*).
For lunch, I had soup with letter-shaped noodles. It wasn't fun. They...sank. I didn't get fun letters like F or U or C or K, just random letters like P, Q, R and S. I wanted to play Wheel of Fortune but I ended up playing Titanic.
I didn't remember today it was the 18...1st? anniversary of the country Independence. Until I heard the bands marching down the streets. That's dumb. I thank God for going to a school that doesn't make its students go marching at 6:30 am on sunday....now that's independence. I would be proud of my country, but I'm on strike until they admit this country sucks because of them and resign and tell the truth and do the right things (such as commiting massive suicide).
You know what I love? Socks. Clean, white socks that fit perfectly.
I'm afraid I'll become a lesbian. I mean, being lesbian is ok, but I wanted to love and be loved by a boy.
I hate sundays, I hate sundays, I hate sundays, I hate sundays, I hate sundays, I hate sundays, I hate sundays, I hate sundays, I hate sundays, I hate sundays, I hate sundays, I hate sundays, I hate sundays, I hate sundays, I hate sundays.
I hate you, boy.
Simeon You know, that was unnecesary.
(No, it wasn't.)
I still haven't thrown Prozac away. People keep telling me to bury him like a christian so his soul will rest in peace. I haven't, because I want to see his skeleton. His eyes dried out already.
I have to make an exposition about skin. I think it'd be cool if I cut myself in front of the class, so I could show them the layers. Charlie would give me extra points for visual sources.
Speaking of which....YFRAGJHSGJHGFJDQM!!!
This is getting random.