the firefly platform on sunny-goodge street

Feeling good. I spent my friday night doing errands, photographing strangers and the city, knitting, and talking to Harry, who I miss terribly, until everyone came home. Then my mom and I went to the Strand and I bought Gunter Grass novels and Neitche and all of the stuff I was looking for and when I got home my mom took them into her bedroom and said "I guess I'll wrap them up for Christmas now" and I was shocked.

There's something so different about the way men say the pronoun "she" when it refers to someone they love. It's lovely to hear.

Harry and Travis are going skiing with my family and my multi-lingual, mildly obnoxious uncle and his three totally opposite sons--a Marine, a Russian Lit major and a jazz musician. It should be interesting.

I killed my MySpace! Actually, it's not gone, but I took all of the pictures down and essentially wrote "fuck you, read my blog instead" under the "about me" section. It's over! I hated that thing.

My mom wants to rent an apartment in France next summer. She suggested two weeks, but I'm pushing for a month, at least. It would be so nice and beautiful and warm and lovely...

I'm so sick of school! I just don't care! On the bright side, nobody there can really hurt my feelings or anything, but the downside is that I'm constantly bored, and nobody really cheers me up, either.

I mailed in my play and I HATE it. I told Dennis, who I rather like, despite everything, and he said, "Well, think about it like a bad boyfriend. First you think of how happy you are that it's over; next, you think about what you learned from it; and last, you think about what you're going to do differently next time."

Words of wisdom. I can't wait to write another.