21/05/2002 - 5:19 p.m.

Arcadia displays but a region of dreams

This is the second time in a row! I had an entry all ready to send off and bloop! it disappears. Ah well, it wasn't a very good entry.

I am going to fail Chemistry... unless she passes me anyway just to give me a break. She ought to. I'd probably pass any senior at all no matter what.

Of course, I don't know whether I'm screwed or not by failing Chemistry. Technically, I'm supposed to have three years of science. Well, can my 8th grade science class count? And since it'll just be the second semester that I'll fail, does that count? I don't know. I almost don't care.

Except that, as I say it, I'm frantically trying to forget how many days of school I have left because that is proportionately miniscule to the amount of shite I've yet to get done. People keep asking me and I'm thinking, I don't care, I don't want to know, if I know that means I've lost more days that I thought I had, and I've this and this and this and this to do.

Andy asked me if I was going to have a graduation party. No. That would involve having to plan one, which would be my parents thing (second of all, where the hell would we have it, not at my house, we've no avaliable relations and certianly no church) and so it would suck. Second of all, it might mean I'd have to go to some other people's parties. Some of them I can't make, but a lot of them I can, and I've been coming up with crap excuses because I really and seriously don't want to go to any.

Which, being on the subject of parties, why does my dumbass little brother get to go places? He was gone until practically midnight with that damn show choir party. I got home from Camp Open House at about eight thirty (I had said we might make it home between seven and eight) and they practically bitched me out- what had I been doing out at all hours and where had I been? They knew who I was with, where I was and could call me on my phone. My brother they couldn't get ahold of, didn't know who he was with, and barely knew where. How is this fair? How is this right? How dare they sit around and moan "Oh, we're more worried about him, he's liable to get himself in trouble, you won't do that" and then give me that line?

I could be a party person, I just don't get to go to any. Although, I probably am not much of a party person. I mean, the parties at ARTS I didn't exactly "party". At the actor's reception Patrick and I exchanged bad accents, then talked to this extremely flamboyant guy for a while. At the artist's one, Becca, Grace, Patrick and I ended up playing stupid card games. For the open mic, we sat in the back room, I scribbled a lot of seriously symbolic drivel, ate orgasmic brownies (they were HUGE), snapped a few very very very unflattering pictures (I know, I've seen them) and that was about it. Hmmm, thinking more, these are the only things I've been to that might in some way or another count as parties. That's me, the social butterfly.

However I turned down this line of conversation, I hate myself for it now. My brain has gone on and is teasing me to write things I'll regret as soon as I press done!. Thing is, they don't work just when it's me, so I couldn't write them down someplace else and have that work. I need back some of that conversation I had this last summer. Unfortunately, it takes two people for a dialouge.