April 10, 1999.

It hit me yesterday that I'm actually living The Life. I've been joking about it since I moved here ("My apartment's across from a goth bar and next to a gas station...after all these years, I'm finally living The Life!") It wasn't until I reflected on my adolescent passion for this part of town that I realized that I wasn't really joking. To a lot of my former friends in B-ton, I am living The Life, although most of them profess to like their current rut better. And what makes it really ironic is that I never wanted to move. Once I settled in Hippie Hell, I was perfectly content. Now I don't want to leave at the end of the month.

Perhaps something can be done...perhaps I can do summer school from here. I'm not sure what to hope for yet. I'm just happy to be here. Finally.

So yesterday was the Millenium Baby Conception date. So much radio station prize money...so much historical import...so much nothin'. I mean, really. I would not want to share the miracle of birth with newspaper editors. I would not want a picture of my sweaty, disheveled self and my pre-cute lizard-looking baby on the cover of the Sun. And I would not want to share my thoughts on the matter ("you people need to spend less time focussing on nonsensical 'human interest' stories and more time thinking about real things for Christ's sake.")

Besides, who wants to be giving birth on New Year's Eve? Let alone in really late pregnancy, when you're unable to dance or drink or do anything but urinate copiously and eat pickles?

Mmmm...pickles...doesn't sound all that bad now...

Again, I must apologize about the swiss cheese gaps in entries. Friday morning I had the second part of my Romantic Poetry and Prose exam, and I was so busy reading Clarissa & memorizing various phrases Thursday night that I decided to go to bed. And yesterday I was exhausted from rising early to get to said exam...so I went to bed right after Southpark and an attempt tp conceive a Millenium Baby. *smirk* Heinous of me, I know.

As for the exam, I think it went really well. I was able to positively identify every passage required of me...and although I thought it was just a short answer exam (and therefore didn't study any background), I was able to dredge seemingly-appropriate sentences out of my short-term memory. In the words of Blur, woo hoo.

A new wrinkle to the Boy's identity as a public character manifested itself today. By doing a web search of his name, he found an online high-school diary of a guy he barely knew, which nevertheless treated the Boy in less than flattering terms. As if it isn't besmirching enough to appear as my SO in these scandalous pages; now he has to deal with the public shame of some low-esteem jerkface casting aspersions on his high-school coolness.

I guess we never do stop fighting the battles of adolescence.

Did a whole lot of nothing this afternoon. We celebrated our first academia-free Saturday since September in the following manner: he played "Heroes of Might and Magic" for 5 hours and I took a 2 hour nap. Then we ordered pizza.

If there was a lazy Olympics, I'm pretty sure we could make the regionals. Especially since we achieve our heights of apathy without the aid of marijuana or alcohol...chemical advantages are strictly prohibited, you know.

The only thing of worth we produced was a rave-style flyer for the upcoming condo hauswarming. I'd include the graphic, but we all know my problems with that format right now. Suffice it say that it could almost be taken to advertise a real party...albeit a very strange party. For instance, the listing for "D.J. CEiLiDH - layin' down litterbox stylee all night long" makes much more sense if you know that Ceilidh is a cat. But you're all smart people, I suppose you already figured that out.

I should be collating notes for my final essay now. See you kids during the next lull in "the Life."