Andare, Partire, Tornare

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At least I didn't get thrown from a sleigh

You are most like Basil, assaulted by bears!

Created by Thren.
Which Gashlycrumb Tiny are you?

So if any bears stop you and ask for directions to my place, lie, ok?

Spending a lazy day off while Bemo sleeps (he worked the late shift last night, came in at seven am). It has been an entirely unproductive or even very entertaining three day vacation, due to the fact that he had to work, and I was feeling ill (no, not illin', just ill). Yesterday I was feeling good enough to go out and get my hair cut, mostly a matter of trimming off dead ends, but the guy put in very long layers that have brought out some of the curl that I have but that you don't normally get to see. I think this is a good thing, but time will tell. At least it's still at the stage where I can put it up if I need to. The hairdresser himself was sporting some painful looking blonde poofy spikes - I was thinking that his hair had probably been bleached a zillion times, which didn't stop him from lecturing me on the dangers of coloring my hair. When I told him that I didn't, he ignored me and kept on going. Apparently my hair is such a uniform shade of dark brown that it looks like it could be colored, when actually it's why I can't color my hair. I'd have to bleach it first, and I refuse to do that (although the idea of just getting blue tips really interests me.

Spent some time IM'ing with my little sister, who informed me that I constantly mix up "loose" and "lose" in my journal (I checked, and by god, she's right! I will have to turn in my English Degree) and with Caerula who I startled. She didn't recognize my IM name which is, as she said, obscure - it is my nickname from my friend Chessica, and is the result of a geeky art historical joke involving Leonardo Da Vinci and our stay in Italy (She is one of the Italy Four from the summer of 2000). I suppose if I ever need a new IM name, I can revert back to my nickname from Cherbear and Persia, and refer to myself as Painful Death.

Read Weetabix's most recent entry and despaired of ever being a good writer myself. She put into one very powerful diary entry the horrible clash of feelings that one gets when one sees a situation that is blatantly unfair, but which you don't feel that you ahve the right to interfere with. Maybe, when I have a little time to ponder it over and do a good job with it, I'll tell my story of the co-worker and how I ended up reporting her husband to Child Protective Services, and how it was all a howling farce that ended with neither a bang, nor a whimper, but rather a mere *pfffft*. It was a great exertion of mental anquish on my part, and to this day I still don't know what exactly was happening.

Twenty more minutes and I can go wake up the Bemo. I'm determined not to waste every second of this sunny day.

2:24 p.m. - 2002-02-18

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