Well, I am going to totally drop the subject of Dan and his feelings about my journal. The olive branch has been passed. (Which, of course, doesn't mean that I wasn't right. On the contrary, I am always right.) As to a certain other's feelings about Reagan, well, I still think he's (meaning Reagan) is kinda stupid. But feel free to email Dirk on the subject. He knows more about it than me.
Well, today started off horribly.
Dirk and I had a bunch of misunderstandings the entire morning, which led to him walking out of my house to go home. Having no time to put on shoes of any kind, I followed him, wearing only my socks. In the rain. Even though Dirk was really angry with me, he couldn't really ignore the sound of my socks squishing on the wet concrete. He stopped and glared at me.
"Go back inside."
I glared right back. "Not unless you come in with me."
Without so much as another word, he turned around and walked back into my house. He didn't even look back to see if I was following.
I suppose I should have been relieved, but I only felt more unhappy. I just sat down on the sidewalk, in the rain, and stared at nothing for a couple of minutes. I'm sure the neighbors were incredibly amused. I got tired of getting soaked, and walked back inside, to find Dirk lying on my couch. It wasn't until I sat down on my other couch that I noticed the sock on my right foot was turning bright red. I'd cut my toe on something while following Dirk outside.
Then, I started crying, and couldn't seem to stop. I don't remember much, except at one point Dirk was gently trying to get me to walk in the direction of my room, while I was refusing to move from the closet door I was leaning on. I also remember that later, when I had started making a high-pitched keening noise while I cried, Dirk was desperately trying to calm me down, saying, "You're scaring me, Agent Skatter."
My cousin told me later that she heard me crying, and had been preparing to kick Dirk out, when she saw him holding me and trying to calm me down. Mercifully, I don't remember much at all.
I awoke from a dream about my cousin waiting for me to wake up so I could drive her to work. As soon as my eyes opened, I bolted upright in the bed, startling Dirk (who'd fallen asleep, too), and called Pia's name. My timing was amazing. She'd been getting ready to wake me up so I could drive her to work.
After that, it was actually a worthwhile day. I watched Private Parts with Dirk and Pia. Dirk and I hung out with Katie (who, I discovered, is one of those responsible for Dan reading what I wrote about him in this journal).
Unfortunately, Ken called. He wants his stuff back. Not happening, Kenny. He's also having problems with his girlfriend, Whitney. I'm not surprised. They don't communicate as well as he thinks they should, and they don't have much in common. Here's another hint to what the problem could be, Ken....you're 7 years older than her!!!
He takes an unholy delight in my problems. I wish he'd just die. Or quit calling. He wanted to complain about my opening in the last issue of the 'zine. He says I misrepresented him, because I didn't drag my personal life into my opening. I don't care. If he wants, he can write a fucking article. Otherwise, I'm not interested.
He also said he wrote a song about me. It's called "Wendy Says". That's not my name. It's what Katie used to call me when we first met. She said she always wanted a friend named Wendy. Ken's song is uncomplimentary, and he admitted as much.
I can't wait until Ken gets Internet access, which should be next month. If/when he reads my diaries, he'll probably have a fit. Maybe his brain will explode. Either choice would be pretty entertaining, in my book.