december 16, 2001. I just looked at myself in the mirror, trying to will myself into being attractive. But it's no good. I'm festering. The worst part is that I can't get truly into the funk, as I've got to be a good-looking, put-together teacher lady tomorrow morning. Dear God, I would love a week to fester and feel sorry for myself, but I have to be tortured by a bunch of 12-year-olds in the morning. This weekend has been quite enough of feeling sorry for myself anyway; if I indulge in it much longer I'll turn into Morrissey. 11:15 p.m. Well, that was kind of fucked. Hermione ever-so-kindly agreed to die my terribly long brown roots tonight, so I went over to their place for a couple of hours. It is so very hard to be in a house with 4 people who are having terrific, no-worry practicums and not to scream about the unfairness of it all, never mind keeping a lid on the fact that you are no-shit flunking. Even the fact that one of them has suddenly come out of the closet is only of marginal interest to one as self-piteous as myself. The night ended with a run to the local McDonalds, set to the soundtrack of incomprehensible syndicated blues radio. It was like a night back in highschool, only then I had no problems. And of course, back then I really liked who I was hanging out with. I keep trying to really like being around this crowd, but it never quite plugs in for me emotionally. I keep missing fun by inches, or so it seems. In any case, the fries made me feel human again, just as they did on The Long Retro Night of Unquenchable Disappointment. Good old fries. this time 3 years ago: "I envision a character who has casual sex with a variety of partners."