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what a dingbat. i've been walking around all week with not-an-entry in my diary, and now i want to address some of those issues, and i won't be making ANY sense to you, dear reader.

i want to re-establish normal boundaries with fred. i knew that i was very uncomfortable with the situation only later - the day after he bought the bike, when every time i thought about it, i felt icky-poo inside. like i had eaten some very stale worms. i had the same feeling when mary, the object of my 13 year-old affections, hung out with me for a day - like heaven - and the next day i felt icky-poo thinking about it. i thought "maybe it's fred - maybe i don't want to see him anymore, and this was just the icing on the cake of weirdness for me," but when he called me at home to set up an appointment, i felt fine. when he called me at the bike shop to ask how to install the rear rack, i felt sick again and wanted to hang up on him.

tonight i see iota after confessing (though secretly, i must admit) in my last entry that i was now feeling weird about HER...she's got crazy-eyes, that one. crazy "don't try to disguise your thoughts because i know what you're thinking" eyes. and - if she's not too ill for it - we'll be getting haircuts around the same time. i mean, i am not all freaked out about this or anything - but i'm worried that i might feel a little...warped. i mean, i was so drunk i was about to fall asleep on the rooftop patio of the building, and it was windy and cold and mmmmfeltlikedeath....

no. the reason i feel weird is because i feel stupid. i feel stupid because she was right about Prof. Hottie, and i should feel stupid about that whole buziness anyway.

i think i'm feeling ill because i feel stupid.

6 years ago today, i graduated from high school. it was june 6th, at 6 pm. in some circles (mine) that could be read as "666". i graduate from university June 13th. that's right, friday the 13th.

apparently, there is a procession from our college to the hall of convocation....that's quite a trot in lame-ass caps and gowns, if you ask me. unnnngh. i hate tradition.