2004-03-20 / 11:31 a.m.

I take an inordinate amount of joy from being on the computer when I'm expected to be at work. (He has given me marketing projects. Marketing. Because I know all about that; apparently. I think he intends to have me flirt with the chamber of commerce. Whatever. I'm overpaid and I'll do whatever the hell he wants me to for about 30 hours a week. Beyond that would cut into my poetry/Oates novel reading time and he has to fuck off.)

I was sent a butterfly. Nuns in return, though I haven't scribbled on them yet.

In seven days I'll be 24. How underwhelming can an age be? Surely not more than that.

Last night I was given presents in the Barnes and Noble check-out line. Smelly-good presents and learn to curse in Spanish presents and touch me presents. And there was smiling and happiness. Yay.

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