There's only an hour left and 2006 is history. So what do I do to celebrate the near-bygone year? I rid my yahoo inbox of spam emails sent by African widows and star-crossed heirs of some Carribean fortune: bloody hogwash.

I have been reading up on Sylvia Plath's unabridged journals again to hopefully cure the mounting boredom caused by the two-week remission from college. It is not ironic that the biblish book is black. A few pages--not even half of its entirety--recounts of Plath's early years which are all hopeful and spirited then moves on to pure blackness and deadweight. I was told: Read up on positivity and love and life. It will help. I just can not. As early as the book's introduction, I'd get all bored and searching for the next un-read book in my collection underneath my bed.

It is so much like a warfare out here. The people and their stupidity at handling fireworks are just too much. Such retards.

Also, people from the college paper have been bombarding me with all these schmaltzy positivity about the eventual 2007, most of which are forwarded messages sent earlier by an equally schmaltzy relative or some pollyannaish friend who reads too much of the Chicken Soup for the Soul series.

I need to hit the sack. These whole warfare-like noise are getting the best of me.

It must be the coffee.