11 X 2001 - 22:58 - centum2

Some thoughts (is there ever anything else? No, of course not; that would make this place interesting-): (I can stack punctuation if I want to, dammit!)

Today is National Coming-Out Day. J. and I had an interesting little discussion this morning as I was going into Sprinttoclassbeforeyougetmarkedtardyyoulittleidiotcan'tyougetoutofbedanyearlier? mode in which she was (as I was frantically pushing things into my backpack) sharing with me the fact that she was - gasp! - straight. I, of course, was horrified and told her I didn't know if I could talk to her... um, I guess that's one of the "you had to be there and also as sleep-deprived and panicked as j. in order to find that funny" things I put on here. But almost everything funny I put here falls into that category, so whatever. So anyway, it's National Coming-Out Day. Yay.

This is my real 100th entry.

I have an essay on Latin translation that I need to write, but this is oh so much more fun.

And now, for responses to what people I know have been writing recently:

Um, Frannie, it's been crazy recently. I don't know. I know I should call you, and that schoolwork is no excuse, since I found the time to call you last year, but there is more work this year, especially with my AP class (yes, I know, I brought it upon myself, shush.) And I get so tired, and I don't have time most nights to write even for myself, to keep myself sane, and I'm hovering on the thin knife-edge between plunging into even worse depression and... depression that's even worse. Not much of a choice there, and unfortunately I'm not much of a dancer. And you know how my sense of balance is. I'm falling apart; I hate this feeling, Frannie, and I don't know what to do anymore. That adolescent immortality complex that I'm supposed to have? I'd love some of that. The cocksureness? I'd love some of that as well. I don't have enough to deal with my life right now, especially not with Al dogging me in so many places (and confirmation of my attitude towards Al can be found something like two entries ago...), and so it's easier just not to talk to anyone... except both you and I know that's not true, that I'm talking to Tiff, and I don't know why I turn to her. Well, I do know why I turn to her; I like her better than Al and it's easier to sob on someone's shoulder when they're at the same school - but that shouldn't make a difference; I don't know why I'm not turning to you. Um, in other words, I feel really bad about this, but I see no end in sight. I don't want to sit back and watch you spiraling away (I can hear you saying "bullshit you can't do anything about it); it would seem, however, that at some level I do. I don't know. I'll try to be better but there are no guarantees. I'm no saint; people who get close to me tend to come away with scars.

And leaving that reply:

It's true, in general. I savage those I love and then leave them when I've drained them of their blood. Or they get wise and leave me, but often they don't catch on in time. And I try to care, and I do, but it's as if something wants to tear other people up precisely so that I can help to put them back together... It's a terrible habit I have, being so needy, so cruel at times. I wonder what people see in me, whether I'm worth the effort. Certainly I don't think so. But I wonder if there is anything redeemable in me. I would hope so.

And Chloe? I'm going through more or less the same thing. I'm not doing quite as much as you are, but it's like I never have time anymore to write in my little book, never have time to think up melodies. I have problems fitting my homework for Saturday into my week and when (in weeks like this) it would be impossible to get it done Friday night it screws me over (I have so much to do for Latin it's not even funny, and I haven't even started it). I can't help you, I'm sorry about that, but perhaps I can offer you my sympathy, poisoned though it might be.

The Civ test was fun today. Oh yes. We'll see how I do.

posco, poscere, poposci, --- to beg, to demand