March 1, 1999.

Spring is here! So saith my background. (If you're surfing with your images off to save time, shame on you! Turn them on immediately and savour the new look!) And although the heavens were very naughty indeed today with their pretty little snowfall in the afternoon, I have no doubt that as soon as whoever's in charge sees my cute little flower divi's, it will become much more spring-like around these parts. I know they wouldn't dare cross me on such an important matter, for my studies in Greek tragedy have led me to believe that the gods are alright joes who want to save humanity any little inconvenience it's in their power to alleviate. (Ok, I may have skimmed here & there, but that's the gist of it.) Soon the weather will match my graphics.

Flowergrrl has spoken.

Today I helped Fast Eddie get a Metropass. It was a very hilarious episode, all things considered. Eddie has just been ejected from a 5-year relationship, so he lacks a considerate female to steer him in the right direction. To a girlfriend, he's endearingly incompetent. To a less-emotionally concerned individual, he's an idiot. So I was doing my best to be a temp girlf and see him safely on his way through the city's many transportation arteries.

What made it hilarious was Fast Eddie's frenetic personality and constant search for the humour in any given situation. He's also a really good listener, remembering details and paying close attention. It was nice to have such an opportunity to chat. But unfortunately, his resultant I.D. looked so geeky, so weird and so much unlike him that it made me burst into helpless peals of laughter. That is no way to treat a friend (unless of course, they're a really close friend). I felt like a real jerk until I could throttle it back enough to assure him that no, that's not what he looks like.

"So, are you really feuding with half of your friends, or do your stories just make it seem that way?"

- fast eddie

I see that Lizzie has decided to call it quits again. What's really irritating about it is that she usually starts writing in a secret location, only letting her exclusive circle of web friends in on it, and leaving the rest of us peons cut off from her rants about how much feedback sucks, and how she only likes about 3 members of her audience.

Can you tell I'm frustrated about this? To me, it seems much the same as a little brat who knows she's popular deciding to throw "secret" parties that exclude most of us. (Ok, I have to admit, I care less about your hurt feelings than my own here...I've got the egotism of all scarred unpopular children, and thus my suffering was greater than yours.)

Maybe I just want to be in the circle of writers. Maybe I'm tired of the big Open Pages cliques comprised of journals that "everyone" reads. Maybe I want to included in that, too.

Or maybe I'm just irritable because I had salad and a potato for dinner. It's time to lose the freshman 15, time to whip this sorry body into shape. Yeah right. This resolve will hold until I freak out from hunger and cook bacon at midnight, mark my words.

It's kind of annoying when you know your own weaknesses so frigging well. No real room for hope here...or maybe my hope generator is tied to my french fries intake. Always possible, kids.