January 20, 2000

I did not bold the 2000 because it's the year 2000. I bolded the year because I'm proud of the fact that I actually typed in the right year on my first try, and felt I deserved to point out this accomplishment some way. Or maybe I should have pretended that yes, after all the hype and exageration of this new year, my mind realizes that to put January 15, 1999 would be wrong. You'd think I'd get it.

Have you ever felt like an idiot? Like, seriously- a complete moron? Have you been able to back up this feeling with multiple examples which you can cite on demand- thereby making you a geeky moron? At the moment, I'm asking myself if I'm smart because I try, or I try because I'm smart. They are two different things, ya know.

Finals, finals, finals. I should have dropped out of school last year. I'm sure I'd have been okay.

Today you went out into the world, and every person you interacted with had an opinion of you. They thought a thought about you, made a judgement, a joke, a compliment, etc. Even people you didn't interact with- people who you interacted around, had thoughts concerning you. Maybe not intense thoughts, but thoughts. Perhaps two people talked about you. In short, you were on other people's minds today. You were considered. Have you ever thought about that?

Yesterday a boy told me I project bitchiness. A girl told me a boy said that he can only imagine me talking, talking, talking, and that laugh of mine...hmph.... Same day, I was told I was arrogant, self-centered, wrong..... Augh! I don't object to people having opinions, but their wonderful communication of these opnions leaves me rather insecure. So I ask people if they agree with these comments, which of course they can't, considering that would be kinda rude. So it's just not a good thing. I mean, it's nice to know how people see me, but I kinda wish they saw better things. Don't say a word. Don't even think it.

A woman's place is in the homepage. That's just a phrase to smile about. Smirk, even.

I want to drive. I've had these dreams where I'm at the wheel, and somehow doing everything correctly. I can actually feel the wheel in my hands, and it's fun. I picture myself in five years still not being able to drive, and I want to drive. What holds me back? The concept of driving.

A person once said that I would have to become a defensive person before I became a good defensive driver. I agreed that I wasn't a defensive person. But I am, I think. It's just that my defense is delayed and internal. A person insults or attacks me, I scowl, go home, and suddenly I know exactly what I should have said. And of course, what I should have said is exactly opposite from what I did. So although I'm not aggresively defensive or openly self- confident, I subconsciously stand up for myself. Hence, the kind of driver I am, or would be, that is, is the kind of driver who would get in an accident and know immediately what they should have done, which is different from what they actually did. Which I don't think is good. That should be another reason why I don't drive. I know I'd be bad at it.

Everyone has a weak point. Mine is driving. It's about time I found it. (Why did I write that? That was completely unnecessary.)

I wonder if I'm a Democrat. I mean, I say that I am, and I think there's a strong possibility that I am, but I don't really know. I'm feeling the need to look into this. I don't think I'm a Republican. The problem lies in the fact that my parents are Democrats, so I don't know if I'm a Democrat because of them, or because of my actual opinions (which would also be because of them, but more indirectly-like). I don't want to be a Democrat because it's acceptable to my friends and family, I want to be a Democrat because I'm a Democrat.

Today I said the words: "When I'm a politician..." It's the first time I've ever uttered a phrase that confidently expressed my future career plans. I always had maybe's and or's. But not today. Today I'm a politician.

I've been reading Hunter S. Thompson. Have you? He's fun, in a shockingly, off- the-wall, practically morbid kind of way. Funny, and probably insightful. I like his confidence in himself, it's very appealing. It's not arrogance, and it's not "I'm right, they're wrong," it's "this is the way I saw it." And if other people saw it differently, that's fine. Maybe there's a touch of arrogance. My dad really likes him, and I enjoy him an awful lot. Others though, not so much. I wonder why. When I talked about reading another one of his books (at the moment, it's Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72), my mom said I shouldn't just read crap, she wants me to read good books too. Hm. I disagree.

I'm going on this trip to Washington D.C. It's all politically-oriented, with fun workshops and lectures and learning experiences and stuff. They sent everyone going on the trip a copy of TIME magazine, so that we'd by somewhat up to date on the country before we went and talked about it. Good idea, right? But one copy of TIME magazine isn't going to do anything.

Considering the presidential campaign going on at the moment, and this trip, I think it's the superb time for me to start finding out which political party I support. And why. And then, maybe I can go all radical and decide which candidate I support. And why. And then maybe I can make a very amateur prediction on who will get the nomination- hell, maybe even the election, and why. It's interesting, how there's all this knowledge I really want to get that I wouldn't have even thought twice about eighteen months ago.

I think you should know that writing that last paragraph, and then tangenting off of it with a bunch of unwritten thoughts, gave me a large surge of excitement. Today I'm a politician.

I've been wondering if I should set a goal, college-wise. I've always known that I'm going to a "four-year college or university," as the bubble on the standardized tests says, but as a high school junior, shouldn't I maybe be deciding exactly which one. But do you know how many there are- and how much the ones I thought I would be going to cost? Up until last year, I don't think I was fully conscious. I want somewhere away, but not too far. Somewhere with a definite campus, but with a bustling city/town around it. Somewhere smart, with great professors and students. Somewhere fun. Somewhere that I can be proud of. Here's a confession. When I list those things, Northwestern University (in Illinois) comes to mind. Then a voice says "oh well," cuz logic says there is no way I'm going to be able to afford $30,000 a year. My question, I guess, is whether or not I should have another little voice saying "why the hell not?"

E-mail me on May 25 and wish me good luck. Then e-mail me again on May 26 and send me a virtual hug. I'll clue you in on why on May 27.

Ohmigosh, could it be I'm out of words. No, not at all. But I'm out of words to share. Hey- I should let you know that I'm currently letting the creative juices flow through my fingertips and back into my computer, and a new project of sorts should be posted before the spring. So, ya know, watch for that. I have goals for this one, too, so be interested. Hey, I'm supposed to be quoting songs here, right? That's what I thought too. K. So I'm eight years late on this one, and it's kind of embarrassing, but here's "Enid" from the Barenaked Ladies' album Gordon (which came out a long time ago). I've been playing this song over and over again for about a month, and standing in the middle of my room belting out the lyrics- it's so perfect. K, so anyway.
"Tell me why we never really respected each other,
and tell me why I never believed that you were a person too.
I always thought that you fancied my brother.
I may not have liked it, oh but memory is a strange thing,
oh, and Enid? Enid I remember you. (!). . .
It took me a year to believe it was over,
oh and it took me two more to get over the loss.
I took a beating when you wrote me those letters,
and every time you told me to get lost.
Now it's not fair to say that it's 'cause I was three inches shorter then,
and it's not fair to say that it's 'cause I was only fifteen years old.
But maybe it's fair to say there was a lack of communication. . .
I can do it all for you- but I don't want to. . .
Enid we never really knew each other anyway."