21/09/2001 - 6:34 p.m.

Getting Better

I've got to admit it's getting better, just a little better all the time (can't get no worse). Yes I admit it's getting better, it's getting better, since you've been mine.

Well, that last part I can't say is true yet. Other than that though, it's not all that bad. I guess.

Today was really awful. Mr. Walag had this little freak out on me about paperwork- that's the responsibility of my parents, not me. If I could sign the bloody stuff and give it all back to him, damnit, I would, but I can't. I just give them the stuff I get and turn in what they give me. If you're not going to give it to me in the first place, I can't help that. I'd ask for it myself except that you freak out the way you do and scare me half to death. I don't need this kind of shit Walag. And don't give me any of this responsibility from seniors stuff either, the last senior I can think of that was a really responsible senior was Lexi, and she sure as hell didn't have anything to do with any of your choirs. Lynn though, I guess. Other than that, there's all kinds of people who are terribly irresponsible seniors. I mean, would you've called Shiloh constantly responsible? (If you would've, you were turning a blind eye.) And she was an officer.

On top of that was just a lot of shit that needs to be delt with. Important stuff, that needs done soon, but not right away, and that's the kind of stuff that really gets on my nerves. It needs to be done so it just sits there and reminds me of it. Ugh.

The great big one is just the lack of emotional happiness in this week. I didn't get any letters from anybody, no e-mails from anybody other than Rich (which, I need to get back to him, so I'm all guilty about that). I never see hardly anybody at school that gives a shit, other than Glawe, cause she has to, and Abby, but I always feel like a nuisance, just cause I'm in one class with her and I actually know her a little better than all the strangers I have all my other classes with, why does that make it OK for me to load out my miserable life details on her? It doesn't, actually.

But I did skip out on Chemistry in favour of hiding out in Glawey's room and sulking. I mean, that's what it was, but it was really more of a reminder to myself that yeah, somebody does care sort of. Cause I'm sure not feeling it really strong this week. Dunno when I'll make up the Chemistry quiz, but that's better than just having a nervous breakdown in class over it.

My family's pissed at me. I don't know why, and I don't really care. What's new there, eh?

Can you be a vegetarian if you still eat all froms of ground beef or pork? I don't think so. I mean, is it possible I just don't like steaks and pork chops? I don't. I don't want to recognise the thing I'm eating as an animal. Chicken doesn't count except for the breast, and I don't eat that part. I recognise steaks and things as too close to the animal. Too much like us. What's wrong with that?

I'm glad we're done with all the psychoanalytical "Man's Search For Meaning" stuff. That certainly wasn't helping me very much. I don't know what I think of his class yet. Everybody goes on about how great he is, but I think he's too touchy feely. That whole fawning over Libby Murphy thing bothers me. Why is he selling out to her? I just kind of have to get out of the cynicism I was allowed to live in with Mr. Pfander. That class was by far the best English class I've had since elementary school. Mrs. Maxwell's was great, because it was a chance for me to do what I wanted to do, not what I was forced to do through middle school, and things are much better now. Mr. Pfander's class was just fun though, I got to go in and talk about fun things and give my opinions, however scathing they may have been, and have somebody else laugh. Not somebody telling me that I'm harsh, not telling me I'm morbid and cruel and terrible when I'm funny about death. What better way to be?

Well, I don't know what Mr. Holcomb's about yet, but I hope it's for good. I'd really like to like his class. Just, get off the sickening girly stuff. I think he's playing at having a class with content, and he's really just playing to the little girls who "discuss" and "analyse" until they're sick and psychology majors. I don't want to think that. I want substance, the real type.

It's the end of the fourth week of school.