2003-08-29 / 7:51 p.m.

Oh, I'm negligent when I'm not full of complaints, I know. I guess I have a subconscious fear that if I talk about peacefulness it'll be boring and happiness would have to be recanted later... it has been before, you know. Lately it's all about the papaer journal; what with the hours of no work at work and no operational computer at Bryan's. I was writing letters for awhile-- lots and lots of letters-- but they were all bundled up and then I lost them.

I like for houses inhabited by several people to occassionaly be vacated by everyone but me. I like the quiet and knowing it's not permanent.

I don't like having to work on Saturday afternoons, but that's my fault.

I don't like knowing whether I want to go out or stay here. And I don't like being indecisive.

I've been re-reading Hamlet for the tenth damn time. I change my mind every time I do. It's starting to frustrate me. Perhaps it's time for a class so someone can guide me. That's what I need... I need Petrucci so he can tell me whose side I'm on.

I want to go home. I want to see Bobby.

Bryan gave me a key. And I was twittery. Candi was on my side.

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