october 3, 2000. Well. This is just great. I've had to chase the cat off the keyboard three times tonight. No, she's not trying to communicate, or write a guest entry (like popular diaries!) This is a direct quote: bnnnnnnnnnnnnnn Makes you want to go write a check to Jane Goodall, doesn't it? God. I want to go home. Never mind that there's nothing meaningful for me to do at home. This program represents everything I want to do professionally. But it's hard, and I like it when things are easy. Well. Not really, I get bored. But it's something to long for when people expect hard things of me. Oh, never mind that ¾ of the people I knew three years ago are strangers now. That my good friends Poet, Preacher & Trotski have each moved at least 500 kilometers in opposite directions. That my best friend from high school - pretty much my last friend from high school - won't return my calls. That my family is fragmenting into little silent pieces of self-interest and my brother wants to move halfway across the country to study a restaurant. And never mind that in my hometown rent is through the roof, employment opportunities dismal and no school there wants to teach me. I still want to go home. Or maybe that's not it at all. Yesterday I spent a half hour trading funny stories with people in my English methods class, including the girl who looks like Ophelia, and I was struck with a terrible longing for the days of good anecdotes. I miss being part of something deep and wholesome & twisted. I miss being on the periphery of wonderful deeds & crazy opinions. I wonder if I'm doomed to spend the rest of my life trying to duplicate the decaying richness of 1997. So many wonderful things happened afterward, but I feel like I left a part of my heart behind that day I moved out of room 3399. "Ahh…pointless nostalgia." - the simpsons