I'm insane. Here I am still up to my toes with Serj Tankian (System of A Down) screeching, "Trust in my self-righteous suicide..." in my laptop speakers. I realized tomorrow is The Day. To be perfectly honest (and blunt), I have not been looking forward to The Day for the past three years now the way I used to when I was in elementary school (with the thought of Mickey Mouse shaped balloons and a birthday cake (with bad, synthetic like frosting) popping in my stupid head in the middle of an arithmetic problem or a nun performing her usual terroristic activities against my humanity). A child is so uncorrupted. However, a child matures and unlearns the popularly-supposed sweet joys of life. Sadness.


Tomorrow at nine after my evening class, I am meeting up with G for a night at wherever. She's forgetting her Wednesday booze party for my sake. I'm contemplating a nose ring. Of course this will send my father frothing in the mouth and my mother in hysterics. Big deal. I told them, they should just have had a daschund instead of me. A daschund craps on the couch after it is five. But it won't resort to crack after you resolved to have its leash permanent around its neck or if you ocassionally kick it out of the house for eating the spare steak you left hanging on the kitchen counter.


Serj Tankian is now whining about disorder. Hopefully it is not a silent hint of The 4th.