December 15, 1998.

Argh.

My Angels (Dirk, Agamemnon & Paris) just invited me to go drinking, and I had to decline. Stupid Greek Drama midterm. Sigh. I might've accepted the time lost if I'd gotten more done today...but the Boy came over to visit & share his growing collection of South Park videos, so my fuck-off time has been used up today.

(And for the first time in a stressed-out month, I didn't pick a fight with the Boy or talk pessimistically about my grades or do anything negative. I actually felt relaxed and happy. I don't know why my good mood can't last for 8 hours or so. Is that too much to ask?)

I was just thinking today how small my social circle is getting and how morose it makes me. Hmph. Next semester should pick up, I hope. I just wish that any of my year-long classes excited me anymore. I'll miss Professor Lindheim, that's for sure.

Thursday I go back home to the suburbs, which will be boring as hell. I'm hoping to get a shopping day along Queen Street in there after Christmas. It's insane...I live here & I never go shopping in the city. Especially not since Scherezade stopped seeking out my unique and poignant company. Double sigh.

There's nothing more depressing than knowing that vacation translates into "trapped in the suburbs." Even my few remaining highschool friends will be working most of the time. It's especially depressing that I'll probably "use" the time...use it to read "Clarissa." What a geek, huh?

Oh yeah, I have nobody to give presents to this year, either. Most of my friends are in that vague territory where I don't want to make them feel bad if I'm the only one giving. Which shouldn't matter, but it kinda does. The Boy is planning to give away packs of cigarettes to those in that category; perhaps I should find something equally cheesy & ubiquitous.

I'm not looking forward to this at all. I wasn't last year, either.

Blech.

Post script to yesterday's entry: now I can't listen to Marilyn Manson without getting all creeped out. Thanks a lot, subconscious.