Cult Members in Winchester

Do you know the reason they created a "panic" button for car keys? I met one of them today.I convinced Robin to let me leave the theater study hall to go to the public library in town, to research the demographics of the Incas. I neared my car, to drop off my books, when I man approached me, seemingly out of nowhere.SCARY MAN: Would you like to hear an Urban Legend?ME: (looking skeptical) What? Oh... no, I'd rather not. (turns to unlock the door)SCARY MAN: (walking closer, with a strange look in his eye, and his hands behind his back) Are you sure? It's very interesting.ME: No, I'm sort of in a rush...SCARY MAN: It won't take very long.ME: No, thank you.SCARY MAN: (lowers his voice, and walks even closer) It's about the devil-worshipping cult of the Son of Sam. (when he said "devil-worshipping," he started to smile, a rather Grinch-like smile. Not the kind of smile you want to see in such a circumstance.)ME: (stepping back)No...SCARY MAN: (still walking forward, with fixed eyes. Does this man never blink?) I tell a lot of people this story. They like it. Would you like to hear it now?ME: I have to go now.At that point, I opened the door very quickly, and locked it, shoving the books next to me on the seat. I started the car, but the man didn't move at first. I was very tempted to back into him, but the thought the potential legalities loomed in my mind. I decided against it, although I will mention that I came *so* close.I looked at him in the rear view mirror, and he was still looking at me. I shifted into reverse, hoping he would "get the picture." He had legs, he could move if he wanted to. It was only then that he finally moved. I turned back as I neared the edge of the parking lot, and he was still looking at me.Yes, Winchester IS a scary place.*******The auditions for the musical were last night. They went well. Mental note: next time, pick a song. After that, maybe I can work on learning the lyrics? :) It didn't look that impressive to sing "la la la la la" when I forgot the verse.Mod 5 is off and running! I have Latin American History, Civil War, and Beginning Photo. They all look like great classes, and now my father is yelling at me for dinner. More later.~Jenn

Our Fondoo Fiesta, Nonexistent Starbucks, and Urban Sass

Mod Break has been rather successful thus far. Thursday and Friday I spent at Ambrose. It was wonderful chatting with all the teachers and parents. Mrs. Cataldo is, uncontested, my personal hero. She can do absolutely anything.Joanne hasn't shown up since we fired her, on Wednesday. She was supposed to continue until the first of March, but she's called in "sick" every day. My father thinks that she's going to show up at our door, drop off all of our belongings she is still in possession of, and speed off into the sunset. I can't say that I'd be surprised.Ah, yes, and then (rather indirectly), we arrive at Saturday. My father went out with friends this evening, so I was left to babysit Ben & Caroline. We invited Goo over, for a small party, and.. well.. let's start at the very beginning.We watched some home movies with Goo first. Jill Halperin at age 10, and Val Daum stumbling over grass at age 5. We then got rather involved in the Bruins game (they won 6-2 vs Tampa Bay!). Byron DaFoe was injured, but Girard and Joe Thorton scored big time. We also talked with Jacquie and Katy por el tel?fono. Ultimately, we piled into the car to pick up Julia.Julia gave us the worst directions ever in the history of the entire universe. An utter catastrophe! She told us to get to Park Avenue, although then sent us in the wrong direction. She didn't realize that we weren't coming from Route 2. Goo made 3 U-turns, to take us back to Arlington Heights. "We're at Trader Joes... Walgreens... can you relate these locations to your house?" "No... look for Starbucks." To make a long story short, after many humourly exasperated phone calls, we ended up in Lexington, oddly enough, in Toby's driveway. He did not seem... pleased... when we asked him for directions. In his most gracious "Leave Me Alone" manner, he gave us a 5-second ultimatum.Julia AND Toby both mentioned a so-called "Starbucks." These Starbucks is allegedly located right next to Trader Joe's and Walgreen's. So when we mentioned to Julia that we were at Trader Joe's, shouldn't that have clicked with her, to say, "Oh, yes, turn there"? No. No, why would life be that simple. THERE IS NO STARBUCKS, much less an imaginary fork in the road that Julia oft mentioned.Julia has some intense urban sass.Luckily, we did arrive at Julia's house, all body parts intact. It was more of an adventure getting home from Star Market (where we picked up all the necessary ingredients to make some serious fondoo). We ended up going the wrong way down a one-way street... Route 3, actually. Cars plodding along at 45mph, heading straight at us. Goo assured us that this is a rare occurance.Again, we arrived back at my house safe and sound, and in riotous fits of laughter. I'm not sure if "riot" can be used as an adjective, but I'm going to do my best to try. At any rate, I always laugh until my face turns purple when I'm with Goo.Fondoo was another... adventure. I still have cheese all over my kitchen. I did manage to clean up most of it, although the smell lives on. The cheese wasn't exactly pretty. The chocolate strawberries were finger-lickin' good, however. I'm going to turn into a strawberry someday. My father's friend, Ravi, told us that for every chicken we eat, we're going to be reincarnated as a chicken, and slaughtered. Have I already mentioned that story? I'm going to spend the next millenium being all those chickens. I'm then going to spend the next eon as a strawberry. Being a fruit is not as interesting, but so it goes. "Day 52: I sat all day in the sun. I think I'm going to be ripe soon. The end."One more day until Mod 5. What a crazy world we live in.~Jenn

A test

Maia and Jesse, two very adorable children, whom I spent all of Sunday with.~Jenn

Update: 8:42 pm, 6 February, 2001I wisely deleted the sound file. Oy, was that obnoxious. If you just happen to be a masochist, and want to listen to it, it is still available. Who doesn't love clips of 5-year-olds yodeling?

The Day Off

Did everyone enjoy their day off? I'm sure. I managed to get out of the house. Amy and I went to the Museum of Science. For photographic documentation, look here:I think I must have the strangest nose.We had quite the time, and a particularly interesting commute with all of the snow. I wish there were a small fraction of a chance that school would be cancelled, but Greg would not do such a thing. I ask this small favor out of the interest of my Urban Studies grade. Bellsy and I were not able to meet over the weekend, and now we are in... severe trouble, shall we say.Here is the good news in my life: my father is going to fire Joanne (our nanny). We have not had peace of mind since hiring her. I do not have the time or energy to go into detail as to all of the things she has done to push us over the edge, although here is a recent example: on Friday, my father mentioned to her that we need a new curtain for the window in his bathroom, however, the task is low priority. What did she do? She bought a new curtain, and redecorated the entire bathroom to accomodate -- and it was ugly. Gray accessories with peach tiles... Anyway, my father made her change everything back, and her rebuttal was the following: "well, you're new to this single-father thing, and you didn't know ..." I'm not sure what happened after the ..., but it's generally not a good idea to undermine the credibility of your employer. I am proud to say that she's history, and I will no longer be trapped into 90 minute discussions about all the wonderful things she did to help the people in Venezuela on her trip to Caracas. I was afraid to go into my own living room for weeks.Today was the three-year anniversary... of my mother's illness. Of her diagnosis, I mean. 5 February, 1997. I remember the day so clearly, it haunts me. It was the worst day of my life. The way people treated me... I'm still trying to forgive people. I know my mother would want me to, but it's so difficult.I found e-mails to my friend Arlene last night, from the last week of my mother's life. I'm so glad that I wrote it down, because the entire week is a blur now. It happened so quickly, which I suppose is best. I did not even remember that the night before she fell into a coma she held me for hours, crying. It was the second time I had seen her cry through all of the cancer, and it showed how much she loved me, and cared for me, and was truly going to miss me... I can't even finish any of my sentences today, I'm so discombobulated. I remember the evening now. My mother was not the perfect child I was thought she was. She was judgemental, critical, a bit of a complainer -- rather like myself. ;) However, she trained herself against it. She worked so hard at it, that her brain did not automatically think of insults, it thought of praises. Her brain did not ever think of complaints. She went through close to three years of very difficult chemotherapy, and not once did I hear her complain. She saved complaints for rare circumstances, such as when a mother was being completely irrational on the PTO, and even then her complaint was administered with a great deal of humor. There is hope for me yet! Again, it won't be easy, but if I'm able to do it, it would be well worth my time. It is a trait in my mother that I hold in complete awe and reverence.Maybe that's why I went to the Science Museum today. She loved it there. When she was a kid, her sister told her that she was going to take her there, in order to get my mother out of the house so that they could prepare for a surprise birthday party. My mother got all dressed up -- going to the Museum of Science was a very big deal to her! -- and was consequentially heartbroken when her sister merely drove around the block and brought her back home. I think she still harbored slight bitterness towards her sister, that she did not get to go to the Museum of Science that day. She loved to learn...I know, all of my entries have been about my mother. I could write several novels about her, if I wanted to. Instead, she'll have to settle for a few, poorly constructed LiveJournal entries. I'm sure she'd laugh if she saw how much time I spend writing and thinking about her. ~Jenn

Returning to the Ideal Husband

I had another conversation with a friend of mine, Joseph [JSY], about husbands. JSY: What? Women pay bills? Isn't that why they get married?JENN: That's why *I'm* going to get married.JSY: Is that your only criteria?JENN: I'd also like him to be nice, and someone with strong morals who does not abuse substances recreationally -- and moderately attractive. We've already established that this man does not exist.JSY: Oh, yes, he does!JENN: Really.JSY: He's Ken Doll.JENN: One more criteria: does not wear plastic underwear.JSY: Some people have fetishes, you know. JENN: I'd also be a little suspicious of lace.JSY: That's blatant discrimination. So you don't want to marry a flaming queen?JENN: I'm not a big fan of fishnets, either.JSY: I guess this means he shouldn't wear more make-up than you.JENN: As long as it's discreet.Well, I found it amusing. I stay up too late talking to JSY. I was full-fledged insane last night at Bickford's. Everyone at the table kept giving me icy glances, except for Katy, who kept saying, "*chortle* We really don't spend enough time together!" Who is it that hates the word 'chortle,' I can't recall.I'm attempting to make this the shortest entry in the recent history of man. Have a great 3-day weekend, all!~Jenn

Whipple Hill

My day got off to a rough start. Joanne parked in front of my side of the garage (again!), so I was forced to park in the street (again). I did not feel up to moving my car into the garage last night, so I stupidly left it out to face the frigid night alone. I was off to a late start this morning, and the fact that my car conveniently froze over did not help. Nor did the fact that I slipped twice while attempting to get down my driveway. Usually I love starting my day off with multiple bruises on my leg, but today I was not in the mood for games. Fortunately, my mood improved somewhat upon arrival at school. We had some interesting discussion during Urban Studies, such as how Jennifer is going to die in Costa Rica because she can't swim. Dave Valdini allegedly cannot swim, also. What crazy people!I went to Whipple Hill today. I went alone, to absorb all of emotions. I had not been there since November, when we spread some of my mothers ashes at sunset. The raw wind drove us off early, and we plan to return as a family in the spring, with a more temperate climate. The wind today was gentle, allowing me to sit at the top of the hill for thirty or forty minutes. I could almost see my mother's figure on a rock near me, curled up, and writing in a journal... and talking to me. Her eyes always sparkled and she spoke with pure enthusiasm for the world around her... and I cried. I cried until my stomach shook. It felt nearly foreign -- I haven't cried in a while. After a while, I wasn't even sure why I was crying, I simply was. My walk down the hill was so relaxing -- all the cliches of "soul clensing." I smiled to myself. Perhaps next time I'll bring my old journal to the top of the hill and sketch a few thoughts.Tomorrow is Friday. What a long week! Next week is only two days, at least. Next mod is the musical. My, how that has snuck up on me. Looking forward to some huge fiestas in the not-so-distant future...~Jenn

Whipple Hill

My day got off to a rough start. Joanne parked in front of my side of the garage (again!), so I was forced to park in the street (again). I did not feel up to moving my car into the garage last night, so I stupidly left it out to face the frigid night alone. I was off to a late start this morning, and the fact that my car conveniently froze over did not help. Nor did the fact that I slipped twice while attempting to get down my driveway. Usually I love starting my day off with multiple bruises on my leg, but today I was not in the mood for games. Fortunately, my mood improved somewhat upon arrival at school. We had some interesting discussion during Urban Studies, such as how Jennifer is going to die in Costa Rica because she can't swim. Dave Valdini allegedly cannot swim, also. What crazy people!I went to Whipple Hill today. I went alone, to absorb all of emotions. I had not been there since November, when we spread some of my mothers ashes at sunset. The raw wind drove us off early, and we plan to return as a family in the spring, with a more temperate climate. The wind today was gentle, allowing me to sit at the top of the hill for thirty or forty minutes. I could almost see my mother's figure on a rock near me, curled up, and writing in a journal... and talking to me. Her eyes always sparkled and she spoke with pure enthusiasm for the world around her... and I cried. I cried until my stomach shook. It felt nearly foreign -- I haven't cried in a while. After a while, I wasn't even sure why I was crying, I simply was. My walk down the hill was so relaxing -- all the cliches of "soul clensing." I smiled to myself. Perhaps next time I'll bring my old journal to the top of the hill and sketch a few thoughts.Tomorrow is Friday. What a long week! Next week is only two days, at least. Next mod is the musical. My, how that has snuck up on me. Looking forward to some huge fiestas in the not-so-distant future...~Jenn

Tolerance

'Tis another day. I rushed home from school so that I may go to the library, although discovered that there were no parking spaces within two blocks. As I'm not fond of walking two blocks to the library in the rain, I opted to go home and sleep. I lay in my bed for half an hour... I am physically incapable of sleeping. How very convenient.This entry's topic is: TOLERANCE. Or rather, my lack thereof. I have specific intolerances, namely people that have a headache and think that the world is crashing down. Everyone at school is sick. This would not be so bad, besides the constant hum of students hacking up a lung, if people did not feel the need to complain about it. In particular, if they did not feel the need to complain about it to me. Good luck extracting an ounce of sympathy from me. For the people that don't know about my CFIDS, [oh, look at that use of a pronoun. It's not just CFIDS, it's MY CFIDS] well, they have more of an excuse. However, people that are fully aware and continue to complain after I have already become tired with their games and reminded them-- don't you love those run-on sentences? At any rate, those people are just being insensitive. I KNOW you have a headache. Get over it. You are not going to die, you have not developed an exotic strain of Pertussis, you are going to be okay!Perhaps that is an example of insensitivity on my part, although I feel qualified. I come to school unless I am:A) Unable to walk five feet. As long as I can walk five feet, I can go to school. Who cares if I fall, it certainly wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to me.B) My stomach cannot hold food down. That becomes more of a public space issue. It's just not considerate of me to be vomitting all over the walk ways, etc.C) I actually have developed an exotic strain of Pertussis, which is coincidentally highly contagious and I am sentenced to life in a plastic bubble, until Western medicine can find a cure."C" hasn't happened all that often, but I do stay home in such instances. I go to school in every other instance, and I don't complain about it. What are they going to do? Stuff advil down my throat? Thanks, I can do that on my own, if the infernal little pills actually had some effect on me.If you see me in school, and have a little stomache ache and feel tired, and you think you have a fever, don't vent to me. I cannot wave my hands and -- poof! -- your symptoms disappear. Don't complain to anyone else, either, come to think of it. Go home and be babied, or stay in school and try your best to learn. Do I have the power to decide whether or not you should go to the nurse and ingest some tylenol? Some people must think I do, because I was asked countless times today.Examples of good sick people: Julia and Amanda. They may have looked a little sick outwardly, but they did not complain about it and they were doing their best to take care of themselves. To top it off, they also listened to me complain about how sick people complain. I'm not a hypocrite, honest.I'm also not jealous that some people are capable of sleeping. "I slept all through A-block..." Lucky! I wish I had such control over my body. Oy, and I wonder why people get mad at me for giving them the "wrong reaction." If they are looking for a bottle fed reaction, again, I'm not the one to turn to.What CAN you turn to me for? I'm not sure. I am not this bitter and resentful in person -- most of the time, anyway. I can only tolerate so much...What else is there in the life of me... Joanne (our nanny) is back today, after a sick-day yesterday. This can only mean one thing: we are having chicken for dinner tonight.We had a brief meeting for "Once Upon A Mattress" today. The cast is going to be... *drum roll please* pretty bad. It's almost all new kids -- Robin Wood has scared the returning students away. It's mostly Freshman. I can only tolerate so many freshman in one room. We also have zero guys who can sing. We're going to end up with Evan Greer as the romantic lead. If we cannot turn this production around, we might as well start laughing now, and have a good humor about it.Goo -- although LiveJournal is tempting, you should probably get some work done, m'dear.Maybe some of those darn Winchester-ites will have left the library by now. Wish me luck...-Jenn

A Thought Returns

I remember one of the topics I while looking at the first paragraph of my last entry. "Hardcore cocaine."Jacquie and I were conversing on the ride back to school from Bruegger's, and somehow came to the topic of children by way of how stupid Drew Pappone's parents must be to give their son a car, even though he has a record of crashing the car once every month since he has gotten his license. (what a mouthful) I mentioned that I wanted to adopt a child, and could very well end up with my own little Drew Pappone, perish the thought. Jacquie suggested that I would be better off marrying a good guy. If anyone happens to know of any straight-edge guys (not die-hard straightedge, but preferrably not with a cocaine habit) with a strong sense of morals, and at least moderately attractive, please tell him that I want to marry him. I'm incredulous that he even exists, but don't want to miss my opportunity if he, in fact, does. Do warn him that it's more of a strong friendship than a sexual relationship. Right, find me a guy like that. I dare you.You know what I just realized? I want my parent's relationship. I want the same kind of relationship they had. I do NOT want to marry my father, but I want a similiar relationship. Although the guy should not scare people off with his crazy optimization ideas and bad mathematician jokes, however endearing they may be. Moreover, I want to be like my mother. She gave me her 8th grade journals, so I know that she wasn't perfect -- which means I still have a chance at becoming as wonderful as she did.I read in a million and three books called "dealing with children about loss" (they ALL have the same title, I swear!) that developing a fixation on the lost loved one is natural. Of course, I've always had a fixation with my mother. She was my best friend, the person I always wanted to be, my ideal. It's only natural that I would feel even more intensely after losing her... right? I'm not just crazy?~Jenn

A Day In My Life

Life is good. I honestly cannot think of anything to vent about in this entry. Isn't that incredible? I cannot think of one problem in my life. I am sitting here, with a Cheshire Cat-eqsue grin like there's no tomorrow. My brother is giving me strange looks. There must have been something in the multi-vitamin I just took. Let's see... Calcium 100%, Zinc 100%, Riboflavin 100%, Hardcore Cocaine 100%... we have found the culprit.I have not written in LiveJournal in such a long time. I reread my previous entries. One word: ANGST. Especially the one about dinner at Bertucci's. "I enjoyed the evening, but now I'm feeling lousy because I'm the only one who did." I am able to draw one conclusion: I didn't enjoy it as much as I said. Oh, yes, looking back on the evening, it was enjoyable, despite the fact that it compelled me to write about my social inhibitions. I was in denial, that I am no longer Pollyanna. Disgustingly enough, I *was* a Pollyanna, of sorts, in middle school. I was THE optimist. Just being around me made one's stomach wretch. I've certainly changed since then, although I still smile and laugh a lot. I can't help it.So much of my life has changed since my last entry. September 10th feels like a lifetime ago. I am so angry at myself for writing what I did about my mother, because I had nothing else to complain about. She was a little difficult towards the end, but it was rather endearing, and I would put up with it for another 40 years if I could. I still miss her so much. I cry at night, sometimes, while everyone else is asleep. I still have dreams about her. She will always be my hero. It was Parent's Day at CSW last Friday, and I was hopelessly jealous. All around me, kids were walking with their mothers. I never wanted my parents to attend those functions, but I wanted so badly to be able to walk with my mother. Life is such a precious gift.I am dealing with the loss pretty well. I think I dealt with it better right after her death. Perhaps it was easier with all of our family gathered 'round, and people giving me an easier time. This is really the first mod that I have no "excuses." Mod 1 I spent time visiting her in the hospital, and was unable to complete many assignments. She passed away during Mod 2, and Mod 3 it was still so close... I was recovering. What can I say for Mod 4? "Still recovering." I cannot excuse my way through life. Besides, I am still doing quite well in my classes. My homework for math has been a little sporadic, shall we say, but I still seem to have a 95 average.My eyes are swollen simply from thinking about my mother. Nobody outside of my family seems to talk about her anymore. I guess I should hang out on the streets of Winchester more often: people still come up to me and tell me what an incredible woman my mother was. She made such an imprint on so many people's lives. It's such a shame that none of my CSW friends really got know her. She *was* amazing. It hurts me that I cannot talk to any of my school friends about her. I think that it makes them uncomfortable when I mention her. I miss her beyond measure.What happened to the "I have no problems" attitude? Well, I don't, really, just a few long-term issues. I did have a most fabulous weekend. I babysat Ben & Caroline. On Saturday we visited with Mrs. Cataldo (friend of the family -- she's incredible), and her children, Jesse and Maia. On Sunday, we took a field trip to Walden Pond, and then visited Goo. That's a brief summary, anyway. My body is still trying to recover. I don't need to mention CFIDS, *again*, do I?At this point, I am not sure what to write about. I had a million thoughts in my head before I started, but they have since dissipated. My sister is also in "dire need" of banana bread, and I shall comply to her request. Everybody could use a little more banana bread in their life.~Jenn

Addictive Net Games

Over the course of the evening, I've become impulsively addicted to CFS Daze: The Chronic Fatigue Internet Game. I'm not sure who came up with the idea, but it's brilliant. I realize that I'm the only one who is able to appreciate it, and I don't care. Through each day, you have to move around and try and perform simple tasks (feed the cat, pick up mail, listen to music, etc.) and make it to the evening without having a relapse. It's so hard to get past the first day or two without having a major relapse, although I seem to have figured out the key to success: wake up at 10am, take a shower. Rest until 5pm. Feed the cat, rest until 9pm. Go to bed. I seem to be doing okay with this strategy.. now if only I could apply that to my real life.On some days, I venture far enough to actually eat something, or take a pill. Occassionally I will read a book or pick a flower. My Game Life doesn't look so bad. If people decide they want to humor me and play a round, they can visit the game website. ( http://www.unlimitedweb.net.au/cgi-bin/cfs-daze/daze.cgi)Not that I have an unhealthy obsession with my state of.. unhealth. It's not obsession, it's just that when you are constantly aware of something, it intrigues you. Especially if you want to get rid of it quite desparately. I'm thinking about doing some research towards the genetics of it. My mother had CFIDS in the early-mid 90's, just before her first cancer diagnosis. Now I hear that my grandmother may have had it in the 1950s or 1960s, before her cancer diagnosis. Which means: that I'm most likely going to end up getting cancer sometime in my life. But I knew that anyway, so it's nothing new. Although there must be some sort of connection, with the illness being passed from generation to generation. Good news: everyone else seems to have recovered.And now, I'm off to play another round of CFS Daze, which I keep myseriously typing as CSW Daze...~Jenn

Friday Evening LiveNovel entry

I just got home not to long ago. I didn't sit at home this evening, isn't that incredible? I went out to Bertucci's in Lexington centre, con Jacquie, Katy, Emily Goo, Jesse Scott, and Toby. I think I was the only one who actually enjoyed myself. As always, friendships strained towards the end and people got tired. It must be some special effect that I have on people. We didn't do much ... or rather, we didn't do *anything*. Although it was nice to be out of the house, to be included. I spend so many of my evenings home with my family (essentially alone), and human contact is always a good thing. Unfortunately, due to years of isolation in my house, I have absolutely zero social skills. (Yes, hear it comes. Another horrible rant about Jenn's past.) It's not that my parents isolated me, I take full responsibility for my isolation. In elementary school, I regarded as so different from the other kids, that although I had friends, I usually went straight home from school and did homework, and was basically on my own. In middle school, I again wanted to concentrate on schooling. And then, I got sick, which if you know me, my life is now focused on. I was then forced to stay at home because I could not move, could not think, and could not even moan most of the time to express that I was in a lot of pain. Having that experience as my background doesn't really aide to social situations. I was bless?d enough to get CFIDS in eighth grade, after cliques have already been established and kids are overly concerned about being "social." Social Life was such a foreign concfept to me. My social life was going to school for an hour or two before getting sent home sick. I only got to do it once or twice a week, as to not get too much excitement all at once. Who am I kidding, those few hours I did spend at school were absolute nightmares.Hence, I have never really spent my life around other kids. Adults, yes, but never kids. Teenagers, esp., have such a different social structure and social expectations. I wish people could be more tolerant with me. I find it so hard to escape from myself, as I retreated into my own little world many years ago. I don't want to offend people, to annoy people. I don't even act like "myself" around these people. I guess I just wanted to apologize to people. I don't think my behavior was atrocious, although obviously it didn't go as well as it should have. I can't take full responsibility for it, either, as I did enjoy myself. I wonder if I'm in denial, because although I look back on it now and claim that I enjoyed it, I still feel the need to have another rant in this LiveNovel. I just have so much work to do.. not work like homework (that, too), but work in relating to other people. Believe me, being cut off from the world for so long makes it very difficult. I know I have so many faults, and I'm trying to work through this. Changing behavior is so difficult. I don't think it's fair for me to come home and think that I had a nice evening out, while others go home and feel miserable -- but I can't control everyone else. I can't make them enjoy themselves, it's up to them. I think if they looked and realized how truly lucky they are, it would make them feel better. I know I'm incredibly lucky. I have had so much good fortune. Yes, I've had my share of misfortunes, but I'm learning to overcome them. Everyone goes through it, it's not just me.I'm not sure what point I'm trying to get across, if I'm even trying to get a point across at all. The people I feel bad for are the ones who went home this evening and did not feel positively about the experience. Yes, I'm still hurting terribly all over, feel quite ill, (once again, I HATE Chronic Fatigue!) and can barely move or think, but I'm content. Thanks to everyone.G'night,Jenn

I can't think of a creative subject title. I'm not even going to try.

Well, today is was back to school. It was wonderful to be back, although I could have done without lunch duty on the first day. I don't understand it, last year I had lunch duty on the first day of the first mod, too. Whoever assigns those things must hate Lisa's advisees. Just beacuse we have Bascom is no reason to be prejudiced against us poor, unfortunate souls!My classes look fine. I think it will be a good mod. No, I'm in denial, I'm just glad to be back. I have Spanish IV, Trig, and Ornithology. Spanish IV is... muy sketchioso. There are two freshman in the course. One of them is from Puerto Rico. As he is from a Spanish-speaking country, why is he taking Spanish class? And above all, why is he in only Spanish IV? If I were in a foreign country that didn't speak English, and I were taking an English course, I would certainly hope to be higher than English IV. Que depressing.Katy's in that class. She's also in my Trig class, B block. I don't remember signing up for Trig with her, but I guess we did it on purpose. Goodness konws why. Kris is also in the class, and will share the joy of Semra with us. It's a good thing like Math, or I'd end up like Katy, and yell that I'm going to commit suicide for the entire duration of the day.After lunch is Ornithology, which looks fine. My mother loves to birdwatch, so hopefully she'll be around during the mod to help me with my homework: to watch birds. I know, tricky stuff. I was informed this evening by my dear and loving father that my mother should be having radiosurgery within the next two weeks. He told my little brother & sister, and my mother was supposed to tell me. Right, that happened. Apparantly, my entire extended family knew about the surgery before I did. I love when that happens. It's hopefully going to remove what I endearly refer to as THE "little baby tumor." My father is afraid I'm too attatched to it sentimentally. I'm sorry, but I don't get sentimentally attatched to brain tumors.It looks like I will survive soccer, too. I was really worried before, due to the fact that my doctor advised me against it, and that I wasn't allowed to dance at my theater camp (where I was a counselor) in July due to the fact that I could barely move. I hate chronic fatigue, let me just say that again. I talked to Dave, who is coaching again, and he was very understanding. He was a little worried that I went an entire season last year without telling him that I had lots of medical difficulties, but I survived. Just barely, but I did.When I got home, I felt really sick, due to the fact that I was out in the sun for too long today. I was shivering all over, and felt so sick. That's another thing I hate, being allergic to the sun. It's a mild allergy, but I have a strong dislike for rashes (thank goodness that I had on extra sunscreen today) and I really hate feeling like I had a sun stroke after several hours out in the sun. I'm probably at risk for becoming one of the dark, vampiric people which never travel outdoors. I love being outside... it's just that the sun hates me with a passion.This entry risks being another novel, like the others, so I'm not going to write anything interesting: simply that I'm glad to be back at school. I missed it so much. Even if the new kids are completely confusing me. I didn't see it as an invasion last year (I was one of those bratty new kids myself). Now I'm a bratty returning student, and seeing new kids swarming everywhere is a little disturbing. I'll get used to it. Next June -- and then in a year I'll have to go through it again.~Jenn