2.20.2003 2:22 pm

You know, I used to write all the time. Just because, well, actually, usually I was bent on "finishing a notebook" or being just like Harriet the Spy. God, that was weird. I never really thought about it much until yesterday when I was typing up my second notebook. All I wrote about was Harriet this, Harriet that. I'm glad the obsession is over. Of course, the notebook remains.

Now whenever I write though, I usually vent about Andrew. Or Morgan. Is that all I ever think about? Andrew and Morgan? Out of 128 pages in this notebook, Andrew is mentioned on 28 of them. That's sad. Real sad.

I also write about my feelings a lot. When I was in fifth grade, we had to make this poster that illustrated different mental stages one experiences in their life. And our teacher told us which one we were, but I got all rebellious and said I was in the one after that, where you start to analyze your emotions. I wasn't really in it yet, now that I look back. I was kind of getting into it.

What will I want to know in the future: what I did, or how I felt? I should probably do both until I determine an answer.

So...things I did. Well, I have a bad cough, so I stayed home from school today. Morgan is also sick, so Nanny took the first half of her day off, and Dad took the second half of his off. Not that he's doing anything. He's probably playing backgammon on the new computer. Me and Nanny went to go see Art the Fart, otherwise known as my doctor. He said I have an upper respiratory tract infection and told me to take Zithromax and Robitussen. Or something like that. Those great family genes, you know. A lot of respiratory problems. Like what is up with that noise Grandma makes when she breathes?

Oh, Dad just left. Wonder where he's going. Not really.

I just saw two dogs running free through the yards. I guess Kramer saw them too, because now he's barking.

Morgan is watching TV really loudly in Mom's room. I hate that. That's one of my pet peeves, along with people trying to hook me up with ugly guys. I can't blame her though, with Kramer yipping around downstairs. Dumb ass. Oh, Carmel just joined in the action. Great. For every one of Carmel's barks, Kramer has 10 and a little howling noise in between. Wow, they're really getting into it. They're barking in unison. This is quite alarming. Then there was a moment of silence, and they started again. You can hear their claws scratching the floor as they move from window to window. Okay, I think it's over now. We're all going to be okay.

Some day I must find the time to write the events that made up my trip to Chicago. I wish I would've while I was there and the memories were still fresh in my mind. Unfortunately, I was too lazy.

You know, I haven't made my bed in a really, really long time. Probably some time around Christmas...no, it was after that.

Uh oh, someone just barked.

When I was younger I would write if I didn't write in my notebook a million pages every day, I was a failure. I think I may have been quite sick in the head.

Oh, dear, here we go again. Kramer is barking. What a dillhole.

I've been feeling very hostile lately. I'm just generally in a pissed off state of mind. When I see people at my school talking, all I hear is "I'm such a tool! I'm a tool!" Everyone is a tool. It's upsetting me. They take Holland so seriously. The only thing serious about Holland is that it's seriously insignificant. I hate it. I need to get free.

I'm gonna get free. I'm gonna get free. I'm gonna get free, ride into the sun. He never loved me. He never loved me. He never loved me, why should anyone?

And some day I'm going to go into the real world and get a real boyfriend. The boys at our school are real idiots, and most of them aren't even that hot.

Sometimes I think that perhaps I'm the next step in human evolution. I'm just the only one who's got over the hump so far. It must've really sucked being the first human, and all your friends and relatives would be monkeys.

How did I write 36 pages that one day? I mean, that's just insanity.