h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Wow. Five days and I haven't written a Journal. I might have said that was a sign, and that we're going to win the lottery or something, but I just checked the ticket. We did get all the numbers, but not on the same row. The most we got on one row was three. I think that if you get half the numbers, you should get half the jackpot. I'm not greedy. $2.5 million would be more than enough for me. I wouldn't have to live in the dorms next year... as it is, we might have won enough to pay for next week's ticket. C'est la vie. There's no point suggesting that since we've barely ever even won any tiny consolation prizes from the Florida lottery, maybe it's a waste of $5 a week. Because to say that to any family that goes through almost as much air freshener as they do cigarettes would be a waste of breath.

Ant's gone away, and it's still light out. Curse Daylight Saving Time. He's only left early because I have some homework to do this weekend, having missed a bit of school last week because I had a nasty cold (ahem). It would follow, then, that the effort that should come from my missing him now is a phenomenally good essay for English lit. And not a rather long and dull Journal entry. But it's been five days—five DAYS—and I know where my priorities are.

Over there. Second drawer.

"poetry in motion[;] where are my pants?" —tree

So tomorrow morning we're having a picture taken of my chorus. Which at first I thought was an ugly inconvenience, because it means I have to bring this stupid dress there again, and I have to wear it again, and those horrible shoes... but then I realised that it means we won't be rehearsing. Which is fanTAStic for reasons which will be obvious to anyone to whom I have attempted to speak lately.

I think it's coming back though.

I also should clean up this room. Not because it's messy, necessarily, but because it's in enough disarray that if I don't fix it my grandmother will beat me with her vacuum cleaner when I get home tomorrow.

She won't really. I sort of made that up just now. But she'll do something of equal horrificness and unthinkability.

No, she will.

Anyway, tomorrow I *will* have to rehearse Cinderella at 8:30. Which I haven't done in...probably almost two weeks now. And which, frankly, I've never gotten very good at. And which I don't really have the energy for now and I probably won't tomorrow morning either, vocally. If he puts his hands up to his ears in that... that... WAY at me tomorrow I think I may... react. Er, badly.

All right, I admit I don't know what I'll do. Probably sulk for a bit. That's what I always do... I *say* I'm going to have a violent episode, or a nervous breakdown, or a heart attack, but usually I just sulk. Fortunately I have never made any claims to valor.

I think I was supposed to do something for my government class, but hell if I know what it was now, and—hey, damn, I forgot to show Ant the magazine. I did want to. I'm quite proud of it, for no readily apparent reason. Ah, well. I'll show him on Thursday.

That's something I have to tell him. That he's coming over on Thursday. Oh, perhaps I just did...

Anyway, yeah, the magazine. It finally came back, and it's nice, and I'm proud of it. I'm proud of the whole thing, except that the cover had to be glossy (saves cash you see, and we have to save as much as we can because we've refused to run ads in it, so the newspaper actually pays for it, so in essense we've traded anysort of financial freedom for integrity, but mostly it's because we hate selling ads) and because my cover design was black and white (mostly black) whenever someone touches the glossy cover they leave an even blacker fingerprint on it. It's okay though. It still looks nice...

In the next month or so we have to finish two, countemTWO, issues of the magazine. So they can go to the slooooooow printer and come back in time for, you know, graduation, or at least the last day of school. How are we going to do that if we usually take twice that long and we haven't even worked on it in the last week? How are we going to do that if we have a total of maybe ten pictures to include between the two? How, you ask?

I... have no idea actually, but I'm very confident. Blindly confident. I find it's exhilirating to do things as blindly as you can. Because usually the things you do blindly are better than the things you do with great concentration. Consciousness is overrated.

I'm going to work on these damn webpages sometime. Maybe sometime this week. I hope sometime this week. Maybe not sometime this week... if not sometime this week, then lots and lots in early May.

I won't even tell you about the college financial aid letter. It's too stupid.

Eeee, five months from now I'll be living in a completely different city. Less than 150 days. That is extremely frightening. Very, very scary.

It makes me very happy to know that my family likes my boyfriend. Strangely. Strange not because it shouldn't make me happy, but because it shouldn't make me think twice anyway. Everybody likes my boyfriend.

The boyfriend says hi And looks forward too thursday

*gives this journal entry an "A+" and enjoys hearing about KM's life*

You know, I enjoy hearing about what you're doing. Because you're particularly cool. Which I think I've made painfully clear elsewhere. Yes. Yes I have.

*yoinks KM's stream of conciousness idea and races off to update her journal*

*runs back in and squidges Ant in a friendly way* Hi!

*runs back out again*