15/04/2003 - 4:07 p.m.

All things dull and ugly.

I'm coming up on having written 500 entries. 500 entries worth of complete and utter bollocks that a whole 20 people claim to read religiously. To all 20 of you, thanks.

It's only Tuesday today, and I'm waiting for Saturday to come already. This is a bad thing because my whole world is going to fall apart starting the day after tomorrow.

Well, I just think it is, when you really look at it, it's not that much to do, which is why I've put it all off. I have lines to learn for "Laundry and Bourbon" on Thursday, and I have two papers due on Friday. This isn't that bad, because I sort of know my lines, the first paper is only supposed to be a rough draft, and the second paper is a review of Siddhartha that I can probably write on Friday morning before class, but, still.

The weather around here has turned warm and summery all of a sudden, and today the last of the snow melted from the pile in the parking lot. The grass here is greener than grass anywhere else in the world, and I'm not speaking figuratively- it puts children's crayon drawings and suburbia's checker mowed lawns to shame. In light of all of this, I don't want to do anything.

It reminds me of a scene from Death and Dancing- the girl in the play asks the guy why he studies's: so he can get good marks, so he can graduate, so he can get a good job, so he can make lots of money, and be just disgustingly sucessful like the rest of the world. That's not what I want, not in a million years. But I'm scared to try it any other way, because, unforunately, that's the way the world thinks it has to work. Nine times out of ten it does, too.