06/11/2001 - 7:36 p.m.

There's a subject, eventually...

I'm supposed to be finding pictures of 1860-1900 money and presidents for a timeline for Econ. Let's just say that this is not quite so exciting as it may sound. In fact, it's rather the opposite of exciting. Well, I'll get to it. I will. Stop giving me that look! I can hear what you're thinking!

Just a quick note- if Britin doesn't learn his lines/how to act right quick, he'll find he won't like my plans for his testicles. These thoughts have been a very big part of the worries of my day, so, just go with me please.

I ought to get back around to Mike and Lisa, but I can't think of anything. Ah well, it'll keep all the readers in suspense, I guess, which isn't all that bad a reason not to continue right away.

This is really extraordinarily random, I admit that, but it's sorta stream of conciousness as to what I'm in the middle of, because I've forgotten what I intended to write.

There aren't many guys out here in Diaryland with good diaries, old guys maybe. You'd think that wouldn't be the case. You'd think that this would be just the thing for a guy to do- who know's maybe they're all posing as girls...

OK, I have to stay out of the ghost stories on the Internet. I don't read just scary shit, I like to read scary submitted by real people shit. The other day I sat down at five and started reading until seven. It gets really dark. The room the computer's in is really isolated from the rest of the house (basically) and when you're at the computer you can neither see out the door of the room or anything that's behind you (which would be the whole of the room). After two hours of scaring myself a little bit, I was terrifying myself with any little noise. I snatched a flashlight to go upstairs.

Actually, the damn house HAS got a ghost. I've seen it. Old guy (fifties), glasses, beard. Saw him in the bloody bathroom at one AM and he disappeared an instant later. Things go missing all the time and turn up in the strangest places- we'll be up on a chair cleaning off the top of a kitchen cupboard and find something that came out of my room, or was originally lost in the bathroom. None of US would go to the trouble of hiding things up there. My brother used to see a face when he was little that would have conversations with him (imaginary friends are different, and my brother and I knew the difference between reality and imagination). When I was little, I'd talk to some little old lady that matched exactly the description of some long dead relation- pictures of whom I had never seen.

My father's side of the family is extraordinarily full of ESP ghosts and stuff. Actually, I really am. I can see auras, but oddly enough, only sometimes- I'll get a flash of colours around someone that's more than just a retina afterimage. One of my friends and I, when we're being extremely receptive (know a lot about what's going on in each others lives and such) will wake each other up in the middle of the night (more often her, she gets odd midnight phone calls and I wake up knowing who called her), or have identical dreams- only, from our own perspectives. There's a lot more stories to this end. I dream the future constantly- never anything important- but my deja vu is generally a dream, and I get deja vu at least once a week. (People say that's really abnormal, I wouldn't know.)

You know, I really don't have a life philosophy. I was supposed to write some paper (back at the beginning of the year) that apparently reflected our philosophy (I believe the actual topic was to explain the influence of people on individuals- it was the lesser of the evils). To say the least, Mr. Holcolmb still isn't impressed, he suggests that it's the cornerstone of my philsophy, and that it's a poor one to have. Well, first of all, screw him- he's not God (certainly he's not mine). Second of all, I'd like to know how he thought it was MY philosohpy, and what that has to do with the way my paper is written. I came up with something that really sounds like a definition of sociology- use everybody to help define yourself. I agree with that sometimes, but not all the time.

If we're being really truthful, I haven't got a "philosophy"- I don't like any of the ones out there. I have things in here that I've said that today I don't agree with. Tomorrow, I might. I don't have religion- so my morals are based on what I think is right and wrong, which is purely situational based. I'd probably handle the same situation completely differently the next day. I think it's stupid to have one policy or one rule that applies to everybody- not everybody can fit inside the confines of the rule. This is the reason I hate psychology. It's scary to think there are people out there who can just check a little box that you're apprently completely contained in- how the hell do they know?

What really pisses me off about this class is that he's the first person in four years to have any problems with my writing- so nobody except Carin had better be getting a better grade than me. (Carin is going all psychology on me, and he obviously likes that, so I assume she'll have better papers.) His problems are related to the fact that he's not reading, he's just editing. Editors have no souls. "Since feeling is first whoever pays attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you", ee cummings. He has a lot of problems with my syntax. That's the other thing, he just writes shit in, doesn't say how the hell he wants it to be, just things like that- syntax problems, well, your style isn't mine, granted, but what's your issue?

Urgh. The more I have this class the more I think he's just putting on a show, covering it with big words and basically no one else is smart enough to argue with him. I guess I made a mistake pointing out his errors on the first day- nobody told me he was a bloody egotist- but he's been skating through on respect and reputation so long that nobody has been making any demands on him. It is my longing, at some point in the year, to get a chance to well- expose him to the class. I just want a couple chances to slip some comments into my papers- Grendel. In spite of the claims, I will readily admit here that the fat arrogant one is an allusion. Just, don't tell on me yet guys.

OK, I don't need to get caught up on him. I need to make another stop into Mr. Pfander's class for some enlightenment. Ask him why he never told me he was an egotist.

Well, the confederacy currency calls...