15/09/2002 - 10:57 p.m.

"What news from Camelot lord?"

The moon is glowing outside my window. Rather like the glow from my glow-in-the-dark Harry Potter band-aid. I didn't hurt myself, but I just wanted to have a glow-in-the-dark band-aid on. It's Harry's scar, and so I resisted the urge to put it on my forehead. That would be too hard to explain. A band-aid on your arm, you don't have to explain that, when it's in the middle of your forehead, people start asking questions. And it just seems rather stupid to have to explain that you just put a band-aid on for your own personal twisted enjoyment.

Sometimes I think I could do stand up comedy. Then I remember that, generally, comedy makes people laugh, not just look at you like you're from Mars.

I think the most bizarre analogy I've heard recently is "spiders the size of gummy bears". Now, I'm gorging myself on gummy bears right this instant, and they're sorta long and thin. They're their own size. Nothing else is gummy bear sized- except, apparently, the spiders in question. I think I'd like to see these spiders.

Polly is moving out, it wasn't just a figment of my imagination. It'll be next week. So, this means I get the whole room to myself, but I have to pay for a single room. Well, my parents do. So, you know, little skin off my back unless they raise hell... Damn.

Our RA decided we should all play a "fun game" tonight. We're all matched up with someone from our house, and we have to find a time to go have a meal with them. Damn. This was the forced socialising I was hoping against hope not to have to do. I like people, I just don't like having to be around them most of the time. This whole eat with a perfect stranger is not good for me. I usually eat by myself or with people I know well, people who will understand when I pick pizza to pieces, or eat sandwiches a particular way, or eat a dinner that consists mostly of desserts. I have the eating habits of a finicky eight year old. No one needs to be introduced to me that way. Questions are invariably posed to me just after the fork goes in my mouth- it's Murphy's Law. I feel sorry for whoever has to eat with me.

Fortune cookie of the day: The constructive use of riches is better than their posession.