My day was flawless. The weather was absolutely corking today, breezy with this penetrating sunshine that subtly caught me between gusts of wind and billowing clouds. I'm listening to Debussy's “Beau Soir”, and I'm lost in ecstasy.

And yet I claim to be completely rid of sentimentality. Get away, you pesky beast of denial! Shoo!

I'm thinking of cutting my hair. Elisse cut hers today, it's all sexy and tousled and short. Mine's almost down to my waist, and it's hard only having two looks to work with- up and down. Really kind of frustrating.

Anyway- the bat left this week for Colorado. Apparently she's going to see her friend Betty who broke her hip, had two heart attacks, and gained 80 pounds all in the same month. Yeah- she's not alone in being completely and totally weird. The word "weird" is probably one of the weakest adjectives in the English language, but I simply cannot fight the fact that it is the most appropriate. She’s amusing yet depressing, alive with senile vivacity yet so withered; she leaves one in a neutral mindset that can’t be described. The woman is simply weird.

I’ve discovered another person I’ve decided to add to my hate list. Here is my new updated version:

1. Boris the Dog
2. That freaking 6’2’’ goddess that stalks the B floor. No one has the right to look like that. No one. I hate people who are prettier than me with an ardent passion that I don’t endeavor to curtail. Grrrrr
3. The Bat- the more I think about her, the more disgusted I am.
4. Amy Jo- sorry, love. Stupid people and I just don’t mix well. What can I say? I think I’ll allow JD Bernal to say it for me:
“The full area of ignorance is not mapped. We are at present only exploring the fringes.”
5. John Galliano, for doing what he does to Dior every other show.
6. Tom Ford, for what he’s doing to Gucci by leaving.
7. That stupid little girl that stares at me and sits in front of me at church. Why are those overly-large pale blue eyes always staring at me from two pews away? Why? For two freaking years she stares at me for the majority of sacrament. May you have glass legs and may the glass break, you yellow bellied comatose prant!
8. And the newest addition to my list: Heather McGuire.

This girl was born of the lowest realms of mediocrity, yet raised and parented by arrogance and haughtiness themselves. She’s the type of creature to label an entry as her favorite, best written blog entry, and then proceed to show you the most vile of expressions and manifestations; a smoldering lump of goopy sentiment and cliché nonsensical avowals. I don’t mean to be rude, but you simply must view this:

“This eye followed me from childhood on up until this past week or so. Clearing my mind of childish disasters and broadening my feel for future life took its creepy toll just these past months. In its bittersweet victory my maturation both mind and spirit kicked me in the teeth and hanged me by the fireside. Honesty towards all others including myself became so palapable in my new reality. The clairvoyant mysteries of my family drenched me with harsh passion against anyone who dare discover the secret. In my mind I always knew my family was unhappy, yet we put on this show with great eloquence; one in which the carnival ride ceases to halt in its spinning and whirling. Like the titanic struck by an iceberg in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and still remaining "unsinkable", I so blatantly saw what came from beneath me. The boring reality of my new found maturity grasped me with both hands and dunked me under its tide for minutes that seemed like hours those which will now drag on for years at a time not without occassional moments of immature glory. In several hopeless attempts to save what has been done, I myself die with the inheritence. Simple questions with complex answers pressure me to grow up faster than I have to. It makes me sad to think that I'll be stuck in this rut forever unless I change my whole ideas about going through life, and as long as I keep myself busy. I'm not sad anymore, I'm not happy anymore, I'm not hurt anymore, I'm not fulfilled anymore. I'm just curiously bored out of my mind. In another hopeless attempt, I think all I need is affection without a schedule, and a new job to work on my weeknights.

Side Note: Sorry if you cannot understand my random mumblings, maybe someone someday will. I don't purposefully try to sound like a "yale scholar" even though my confusing thoughts may lead some to believe this and the fact that I used 2 or 3 of my English vocabulary words in this entry. (I'm proud of myself sometimes, but some people succeed in tearing down my walls and poking my feelings, so I become bitter and use it against them for a few months, then I give up because that too gets boring.) My best thoughts know no boundaries and usually only make sense to me and to those with great ability to analyze. On an ending note -- Ever since I cleaned my room it's been cold in here; I should have left all the junk in here, at least it kept it warm.

From my brain to yours, do with it what you wish

-Stupid.”

These vocabulary words are so obviously planted that the fact that she misspelled one of them is demoralizing. I suppose I am moved emotionally in a very distressing way, perhaps she felt this too, hence the feeling of prided she late expressed at writing such rubbish:

“I feel confident that I'm going to be a future achiever of America. I can handle the pressure, can you? I would consider myself a little above averagely mature for my age level, and it really helps you understand the feel of life. Underlaying ideas often prohibitted me from her true friendship, but in so many ways these past 2 weeks we've bonded the ancient gap. I love Ana, she's the sweetest girl, and such a smart one too. Our group against the world 2005; we'll show you all what we're made of. If you don't understand this disreguard it, it's not meant for those who just can't grasp what I put across. I still think my entry before this was the best.”

Now, if the homework I have yet to do was anything but history, I would not proceed to rip this absurdity apart and into my mental oblivion. I am afraid, however, that the homework I have left is history.

I find many disturbing things in such a bold statement. I keep on running my tongue across my teeth and lips, hoping to rid my mouth of the nauseating taste instigated by this entry; I find the very thought morbid. By the way, if you find any part of my actions arrogant, conceited or just malicious, congratulations: You win the prize for most meaningless observation made in one week.

1. In the above two entries, she spelled the following words wrong:

• Palpable
• Occasional
• Inheritance
• Underlying
• Prohibited
• Disregard

*Just a little note to Heather- before comparing yourself to a “Yale scholar”, try using a spell check, you arrogant little shit.

2. Grammar- I’m afraid it’s late and I simply haven’t the time to go into this. No person in possession of an education, job or life does. Sorry!
3. The abstractness with which she tries to write is poorly crafted and transparent. She does not write for herself, she’s like a cheap house disguised by plaster columns and inferior embellishment. This is for display; I doubt she feels anything for this excluding the joy she sees in impressing. I’m afraid that “those with great ability to analyze” will see no merit in this at all, just wobbly desperation that is poorly masked by pathetic egoism.
4. I can’t even label these phrases, they’re so hideous:

• If you don't understand this disreguard it, it's not meant for those who just can't grasp what I put across
• Sorry if you cannot understand my random mumblings, maybe someone someday will
• My best thoughts know no boundaries and usually only make sense to me and to those with great ability to analyze

Your thoughts do know boundaries, even your best ones. The individual built to serve society or a collective mind of any type is restricted by the very fixation for which it labors. No one can “grasp what you put across”; you’re not articulate. Not even those with “great ability to analyze” can understand this; there is no meaning. Your pride and the satisfaction you feel in dejection will not help you or make you taste superior; they will become your burdens and your vices.

Good luck with that.

I’m tired and it looks like I’ll be waking at 4 to complete my history. Huzzah! Inefficiency has never tasted so bittersweet. I did my trig, at least, kind of (not really). Wow- I need this year to end. Then I can spend three months doing nothing but showing people to their tables and napping on the front desk of work. My brain has either died or developed a very crippling personality disorder; it’s not working anymore. It might of decided to vacation in Europe; perhaps I’ll stumble upon it at an Irish pub someday. Maybe it’s just sleeping.

Oh my, I’m rambling. A couple more minutes and I’ll start sounding like our dear friend Heather who we met a couple paragraphs ago. I can’t let this happen, I leave you only because I must.

Farewell!