10:42 p.m.

The glory days of this blog have passed. That's just a fancy way of saying that I'm too goddamn lazy to post that much anymore. I mean, it's not like anybody really reads it, so no biggie.

Mother's Day is such a crock. I mean, do mom's really get a kick out of it? I don't think my mom does. I got her a dish set from the Bay (twenty pounds that I had to lug ten gigantic blocks home) and she says "Oh, thank you, I was thinking of buying this the other day." And my sister started reading stupid poetry that only a dumb eight (or nine?) year old could write.

Mr. A. thinks I'm a sadist. That's really great. See, what happened was, our class was in the library looking for topics for our speeches and he overhears me saying to M.: "I think I'm going to do mine on the Marquis de Sade, as I'm a sadist." He gives me this weird look and asked me to continue the conversation. Weird and creepy, I must say. Oh well, at least he'll remember my name now...fucking asshole.

I notice that I dedicate a lot of my time ripping him out. It's not because I have nothing better to complain about, I just don't really want to get into the other stuff 'cause they're weird and confusing and they kind of depress the hell out of me. I'm just going to say that I really regret my decision to go to Prom, 'cause judging by all the hullabaloo (great word) that's been going on, I think it's going to suck mondo shit. Great.

HOW AM I GOING TO EDIT ALL THE DRAMA FOOTAGE? SHIT SHIT SHIT.

I hope a lot of people die soon. It seems like I'm hating a lot of people now. That's not healthy, for me and, if any of the violent thoughts in my head go to fruition (proper use? no? whatever), for them either.

Cut my hair again. Kind of spiky and whispy, like an anime character. I like it, makes my head feel less heavy.

No order, whatsoever...no agenda, whatsoever. I want to kick Tobey Maguire in the balls.