21 vii. 2002 - 19:05 - brevis52

After writing my Alchera assignment last week, I: got a new Moleskine notebook to replace the one I'd been planning to exchange with T. (and which I now probably will never get back; if I do, it'll be in a little shoebox filled with everything else I've ever lent her, so I'm sort of hoping I don't get it back), went to hear the Indigo Girls (they were wonderful; my only complaint is that I had to leave midway because of how my arrangements for a ride worked themselves out), went to see 'Men in Black II' with my sister and her friend (I enjoyed it because it amused me, and artificial butter is so sneaky about the way it comes up behind you and makes you gasp for water), worked on a skit for my German class (the plot involves the assassination of Julius Caesar and an abbreviated version of Dante's Inferno with different characters), got a new completely mechanical typewriter from my mother (friend of ours found it at a sale and bargained it down to just. fifteen. dollars), wrote a thank-you letter to said friend completely in Chinese, went to the Mission and sat on the lawns outside Dwinelle with my sister (who visited me in between my classes), lost any sense of appropriate use of asyndeton (and the parenthesis in addition to that), talked to Al for two hours, and slept.

Today I developed an urge to clean which forced me to move around the house like a nuclear-powered housewife from the '50s on steroids. My world narrowed to a crusade against the evil of dust.

My room looks a little better now, and suddenly I realize that all the people who thought I was anal-retentive about cleaning my room were only half right. I am one of the people who when restrained from clearing up that one speck of dust begins to suffer a violent series of spasms. This happens to me, however, only on occasions: in other words, when I am In The Mood, and fortunately for the world, I'm not in the mood all the time.

It's only these weird occasional lapses that leave everyone else wondering.