Dear Diary,

I have a killer stomach ache, and I know, you were dying to know that. I've got a full day of work today, and I just finished grading a stack of papers that went right up to my ears. Ok, maybe it didn't really, but there was a ton of it. I brought my ipod to work and have been listening to it while I was grading and it made it go lightening quick. It's comforting to have around. I think I should marry it.

It's also useful to drown out the Xmas music the orchestra is squealing out next door. I heart my ipod. Seriously. Have you heard a drowning cat, I mean high school violin player???

I have lunch duty today. Let me tell you how much fun that is- staring at high schoolers eat and socialize and be more beautiful than I ever will be. And more happy, too. And with more talent, dreams, and hope than I could ever, well, hope to have.

I only have one hope today, one thing to look forward to. It's silly, really, but I hope he'll call. It was nice having someone who would take the time out to think of me. And when he said he had my song stuck in his head all week, well, it was touching. It's probably the closest I'll ever get to taking over somebody else's head.

I don't really know what I meant by that.

I really don't want the kids to come in here next. This is my planning, my sanctuary. Soon enough they will be jostling in, mocking me, being all cool and gorgeous and defiant. And I will be me, struggling for a small sense of my rightful power over them, a power that age should naturally give me, but that physcial appearances robs me of time and time again.

I wonder if he loves me. Maybe he'll come to practice tonight. He probably won't.

I do still hope he calls. Maybe. I want to tell him everything she said, but maybe it would be too weird. I don't know. I guess I'll find out.

I do apologize for the vague references, but you'll have to just deal with it, honestly. It takes me a long time to fully trust somebody, and I don't know you well enough to tell you any more than I already have. In fact, I've already told you much too much, but that's just how I am.

Peace out, son,
The Quake