- i've talked about hot pockets before - about how they are glorious. and wonderful. and the food ones are delicious.

- but today i realized the error of my ways.

- i was at work trying to get some girl all set up on the computer. and since i am amazing, i was successful in my attempts. so she sat there for like 10 minutes, working on the computer. she is not amazing, so when she was done, she didn't shut down her program, so i had to go work my magic.

- in order to do so with ease and comfort, i helped myself to the seat in which she had just been seated. and it was warm.

- but not in the pleasant way. not in the way that might make you say "ooh, how pleasantly warm."

- no, no. it was so warm, it felt almost mushy. like when you put tupperware in the microwave, then realize it's not supposed to be in the microwave, and you take it out right before it starts to warp. it was pretty gross.

- in conclusion, not all hot pockets are good. i stand corrected.

- is it wrong that in a world of love and fun and life and sleep and sex and sugar and doritos that the thing that gives me the most pleasure is not having homework? well. maybe not more than the doritos. but almost.

- really, that is a sick, sick truth. what is the world coming to? i barely smile when i see some of my friends in the hall. i don't have time to talk to my own mother. i drudge through my days not caring. but then, when i realize i don't have homework, i jump and dance and yell.

- does it get better, oh adults? is there a point where real things start to matter again? or am i lost forever?

- j'ai décidé d'écrire en français içi, car je ne l'ai pas encore fait. je sais bien que mon français écrit [ et parlé ] est pas mal horrible, mais aucun de mes amis le parle d'un niveau élevé non plus.

- si vous parlez le français, j'aimerais m'excuser pour avoir écrit ceci.

- la raison que j'écris en français est que j'ai voulu citer un extrait du livre l'étranger, par albert camus, depuis longtemps. le voici:

- "devant cette nuit chargée de signes et d’étoiles, je m’ouvrais pour la première fois à la tendre indifférence du monde. de l’éprouver si pareil à moi, si fraternel enfin, j’ai senti que j’avais été heureux, et que je l’étais encore. pour que tout soit consommé, pour que je me sente moins seul, il me restait à souhaiter qu’il y ait beaucoup de spectateurs le jour de mon exécution et qu’ils m’accueillent avec des cris de haine."

- je ne sais pas pourquoi je l'adore tellement, mais il semble être très romantique, pour une raison ou une autre. même s'il parle de sa morte.

- it is tv turnoff week. so turn off your television. turn it off!


- if anyone happens to get the chance to read adbusters, please do. i have read one issue and i fell in love with it. it supports anarchy and is against bad things. like mcdonalds. and george bush. (caitlin, just let me have this one.)

- some things adbusters suggests you do:
- find a relatively busy place and stand perfectly still for 10 minutes
- take off your clothes and observe your body in a mirror. see it as naked for five minutes, see it as nude for five minutes
- sit still in your home with the power off for 15 minutes. then sit still with every appliance turned on for 15 minutes
- observe your toilet bowl for 15 minutes
- drink only hot water for several days - it may taste sweet, or earthy; it may remind you of your own blood

- the other day at work, i spotted someone eating ritz bits sandwiches. ever since then, i have been craving them desperately.

- tonight, i purchased a box of them. so i was sitting here, eating my cheese cracker sandwich things, and i realized that they tasted more processed than anything i had ever eaten.

- and i didn't mind.

- it says right here on the box, 'with real kraft cheese.' i almost have to believe there's real cheese in the packaging rather than in the "cheese." again, i don't care.

- these things are delicious. really.

- in my school, there are (if i can count) 5 vending machines. i am in love with one.

- i call him old vendy, and he is mine. well not really. he sits along side the snack vending machine and the ultra spiffy new drink vending machine. all he wants is to sell you water, or possibly juice, perhaps even a carbonated beverage. all you have to do is feed him his fuel of life and tell him what you desire.

- and you know what he does then?

- he yells (well - he kind of just puts it up in capital electronatized [ electronawhat? ] letters) VEND!

- and then you get your beverage. have fun.

- last night, i went outside to contemplate the meaning of life. it was snowy and cold, but i didn't really feel anything. neither the numbness of my hands nor the wetness of my tears. i sat and thought.

- then a boy walked by. i recognized him, because i see him almost every day. just walking. he always wears the same sweater. it's black and it says in giant white caps on the back 'hey ho, let's go.' my mom read it out loud, once. i laughed at her.

- it occurred to me that his footsteps seemed too loud when everything else was so quiet. the only other noise was the rustle of trees. but his footsteps were loud.

- then i wondered if he was God. i seriously considered that thought for a while. as he was walking by, i asked him to give me a sign. a glance in my direction, a slight nod, even a cough. but he just kept on walking. and it was quiet again.

- i thought it was very symbolic.