21/10/2001 - 8:27 p.m.

Un petit francais.

Pardonne-moi si vous parlez le francais, mais, j'ai la classe pour l'ecole, et quelquechose je decide n'ecrir pas dans l'anglais. Si c'est une tragedie pour la lange, desole. (Aussi, je ne sais pas comment avoir les accents.)

Aujourd'hui etait tres longes. J'ai fini le projet pour le chemie. Cinq compounds. Blah. Anne of Green Gables etait sur la tele, mais je ne pourrais pas le regarde, parce-que du projet.

OK, back out of French mode. Sometimes I just get started thinking with it, and it takes over my brain. They skipped me up a year, because I'm supposed to be really good or something, so I'm in a pretty hard AP class with Josie. Yeah, just us and five kids in French 4, but it's basically me and Josie. Spooky. It's made me feel really double-crossing, cause I like her all right in French, but then we go down for rehearsal and I suddenly can't stand her. I suppose that's my problem, but I feel bad about it sometimes, and it makes me want to tell other people to lay off her, because hey, she may have a reason. I don't know.

I ought to quit for tonight. Ought to get to bed. I've got enough to do of late...but I don't want to do it.

You know, I've been thinking about this for a while, (I've been heming and hawing over the keyboard for ten minutes, and that's just for today) and well, I know that really the place to do this is in my own private diary because being rash and stupid is generally not a good thing. Well, chances are he won't read it anyway... Oh, what the hell, this is a Michael White move (see last entry)- Patrick, I'm in love with you. That's all there is to it. I just wanted to get it said and if this is totally unwanted and unexpected, I'll drop it, but I had to say something.

Je suis fou.