November 1, 1998.

I am such a dork.

No qualifications, no excuses. I'm just a great big dork. Last night I was in the Garden (the happiest place on earth!), with a slinky velvet dress & freshly coal-coloured hair...and it actually looked good. I've always wanted to dye my hair black, but I've always been afraid that black hair would look horrible on me. And it doesn't. With me was my indefatigable companion Palaver (dressed as Edmund Burke, in smoking jacket & formal pants) and the love of my life (dressed as Hunter Thompson). Stacy was there as a lovely little angel, and I finally met Javina. A stranger gave me flowers as he passed by. I was driven home from the club.

And I still managed to have a rotten time.

Part of it was the whole "I don't have friends anymore oh woe is me" bullshit. Yes, I do have friends...good ones, friends who care about me & try to draw me out when I have problems. I know I spend far too much time worrying about the opinions of those who don't like me enough to explain why they suddenly turned me out of their lives. (Sometimes I feel like I have a best-before date stamped on my fucking forehead). Part of the problem is that I reacted to my upsurge of popularity in adolescence by circling friends around me like covered wagons. It's a sucky way to live.

Part of it is that I'm disappointed in myself. I blew off 2 assignments last week because I just couldn't apply myself. I was too lazy, too uninterested in the assignments and too worked up about Trevor. If I get a B on either assignment, it'll be pure luck. I'm too fucking old to act like this. I'm in my fourth year. I have no job prospects. If I go to teacher's college, that forestalls reality for a couple of years...and then the wheel comes right back. I have got to grow out of this half-assedness.

And part of it is that Trevor & I had another stupid fight in the Garden, one in which he didn't say anything objectively wrong, but in which he managed to push all my buttons & conjure up the worst points of my mother. I flipped & made his night just as shitty as mine for about an hour, at which point I metaphorically crawled into his lap like a cat & asked for forgiveness. I don't know how to deal with my mood-swings lately. I'm just hoping that he'll be able to ride it out. Meanwhile, I gave him the okay to exploit my guilt about being a jerk, and ask for things I wouldn't normally agree to. Like washing socks and such...this diary is G-rated, damn it! (Well, except for the porno store story a couple days ago. Nevertheless...)

Last night I decided to tell people that I was my own evil twin, Lolita. Maybe she showed up a week early to screw with my education & boyfriend. You never know with those damn evil twins...

Okay, on to what really irks me about last night. I was in the same place with Javina. I was introduced & we tried to catch up. Could I make conversation? To save my goddamned life?

What do you think?

Since I acted totally spastic, I have only superficial things to relate. She's awfully pretty, and taller than I'd expected (For some reason, I assume that anyone frequenting the Garden is differently-heighted than they actually are. I thought Q would be at least 6'3"...) That's about it. Sorry, folks...have I mentioned that I'm a goober?

one year ago today: all saint's day