It's a Great Day for Baseball


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Saturday, January 10, 2004

my mom hit a bunny crossing the road when we were driving one day. i've been slightly depressed ever since.

it had so much to live for!

:( poor mr. bunny. may you rest in peace forever. and i hope your children are well.

Tuesday, January 06, 2004

if i'm "so lucky" and "everything will be fine" then why do i hate the world right now?

come march-april, i might be trying desperately to find an open dorm at ASU. oh, how luck changes.

manzanita, anyone?

Sunday, January 04, 2004

I gained twelve pounds at some point this year.


It will all be gone NOW.



Happy New Year.

Something I wrote earlier tonight, for a new project-thingymajig.

Today at work I saw a couple of things. I saw a rainbow stretch from the mountain to the Target Superstore across the street. Then it disappeared and I had to fill the salt shakers. I saw a garbage truck speed past five little white cars. I imagined the garbage truck and the cars colliding with each other, causing metal and glass and fire to intermingle with orange peels and empty bottles of beer and plastic bags, and I thought maybe it would move all of the eyewitnesses to recycle more often. If you plastered your face and a made-up quote about environmentalism on all of the recycling bins, thousands of teenage and middle-ages women would start saving their newspapers and Dr. Pepper cans and cheap wine bottles and the world would be a better place. Instead of formerly suicidal girls writing you about how you saved their lives with your voice, schools of fish could write you about how you saved their lives by ridding their living rooms of toxic waste. I wouldn't want an oil drum sitting in front of my plasma-screen TV. Then again, I've never seen a real oil drum, and I've never watched a plasma-screen TV. I hear "plasma" and I think of the semi-annual blood donations at school, run by the American Red Cross.

I saw a man, again. This guy comes in twice a day- once for lunch, once for dinner. He always has an iced tea. He always puts cheddar cheese on top of his salad.

Only in America.

I wonder if this guy has a wife (probably not) or a good paying job (probably, this place is pretty expensive for all-you-can-eat) or why he loves monotony. Routine seems to be my enemy. Then again, every time I get cast in a play, I'm always the crazy old lady. But at least I am crazy in different ways each time. In one, I thought my dog was a cat…in the other, I was an axe murderer, in the other, I broke tea saucers when I was upset. I guess routine isn't such a bad thing. The guy's name is Sean. He looks like he has British parents and he always wears Bermuda shorts. I wonder if he's ever been in love, and where she went. Maybe they broke up in the corner booth at the restaurant where I work. Maybe she joined the Peace Corps, and she's off battling the AIDS virus in Ethiopia with her colleagues, and he wallows in his chicken noodle soup, waiting for the day she jumps back in his arms. Maybe.


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