Dear Diary,

The random quote of the day is: "I'm looking at you like a llama!"


Kids are weird. Have I mentioned that? Heh, I guess I don't have much room to talk...

The concert is still doomed. I'm not looking forward to Thursday at all.

I haven't posted a poem on here in a while. I might do that. It will probably be very crappy. Let's see...

~maestra

Dear Diary,

Yeah, I'm back. No, nothing particularly interesting happened to me in the spaces in between. I just wanted the company. And it's warmer near my computer.

Well, wait. I did have an interesting conversation with myself earlier. It went somewhere along the lines of:

...oh wait. I need to find something to wear tomorrow.

*puts on long navy blue pants and red short sleeved shirt with double layer of buttons*

...man, these buttons are really annoying. This would be perfect for tomorrow. IF IT WEREN'T SO FREAKING COLD. *pause* But maybe I could wear a nice warm jacket over it.

*pulls out several jackets and tries each one on in turn*

that would be perfect! if these weren't NAVY BLUE pants....THAT would be PERFECT! if these weren't NAVY BLUE pants.

*pause*

i could wear my khaki pants. but i haven't washed them yet. ick. NO. the navy blue pants. ugh...

*pause*

well, maybe i could wear a jacket when i'm OUTSIDE and it won't matter if it clashes because when i'm inside i can just take it off.

*takes off current jacket*

...which would be perfect if my arms weren't giant caterpillars! to think some people complain about being too top heavy. at least they're NORMAL top heavy. But no, not me. when i say i've got too much on the top, it isn't where every other females' is... it's in my upper arms. my ancestors must've been some burly conquistador muscle men, cuz let me tell you what, i'm built for some major biceps. that would be great if i were a professional olympic weightlifter like Cheryl Hayworth or something. but i'm not. ugh. NO.

*continues searching through jackets, finally finds a cream jacket that matches the pants*

i LOVE it. but it looks so ick with the red shirt. maybe if i find a blue one without a collar...

*follows own orders then gazes at self in mirror*

PERFECT! that is so me! like, who are you messin' with now, eh? you wanna start somethin' with me? i don't think so!

*throws some fake punches then struts out of the room*

And that, Diary, is probably why you are my closest friend. Hehehe. I don't know what's scarier, the fact that I remembered that in such vivid detail, or the fact that earlier today one of my students was telling me an analogy I had given her a couple of weeks ago that I had absolutely no recollection of uttering at all:

Kid: "You said that our trio was like a cake. You said the bass was a plate, the melody was the cake, and the treble part was like the icing."

Me: "I said that?"

Kid: "Yeah."

Me: "Wow, this is scary. I don't remember saying that at all. I mean... it sounds like something I'd say."

Kid: "Because you did."

Me:"Well, it makes sense! Because the bass supports everything, the melody is the meat...or, err... cake, and the treble part is floating on top like the icing..."

Kid: "Hehehe, yeah, it DOES make sense. But you really said it."

Me: "Hahaha. Wow."

So.... story time over?

~I am my own anti-drug

Dear Diary,

Today was a tough day, mainly because I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night. I couldn't sleep because I had so many questions floating in my head. Like, what if I have it and don't even know it? What if I've had it for a while, and ended up passing it to someone that I loved, to? What if, right now, we're both ticking time bombs waiting to die- and it's all my fault? I had horrible nightmares, and then I just had to get up and stare into cyber space for a few hours.

Eventually, I came to the point where I remembered that we're ALL ticking time bombs and we all will die eventually, anyway. The point isn't really so much when we die, but what we choose to do with our lives while we still can.

Human beings love to point the finger, and they love to blame. The simple truth of the matter is that we are all capable of any sin at any given time if put under the wrong kind of circumstances as psychology proved with the Milgram Obedience experiment. No one, no matter how horrible they are or what stupid things they have done, deserves AIDs.

I just needed to get that off my chest.

The kids rehearsed today again for the Thursday night concert. And they sucked. What else is new?

Oh, yeah. I earned a grant to get more compositional software installed at the school. Sweet!

~adia I do believe i failed you...

Dear Diary,

Interesting turn of events. He called her. She called me. He wanted to go out to eat with her. She wanted me to come along, and he said yes.

Then along came rehearsal.

The choreographed sections were spot on, the singing was rather awful. It made me want to stop my ears and cry. I came home and saw that she had called me again. He had called her already to say he didn't feel like going. I actually called her to say the same.

Result? Manipulative plan to evade him still stands solid. Ten points for me.

Now it's time to continue pretending that tomorrow isn't Monday...

~paalam po

Dear Diary,

I think you're old enough now to handle the truth. You are not an only child. In fact, you have had many, many brothers and sisters whom you will never meet. Yes, I have had many a journal, diary, blog, notebook, scrawlings on the back of a napkin or receipt. However, like I said, you will never meet them. Why? Because I killed them all, well almost all of them. I have a few buried in a secret place far, far away from here. But the rest, I killed. Hahaha. I actually killed three off last night while you were sleeping. And one day I might kill you, too because the world is a cruel, horrible, taciturn place, and mommy needs some time to reflect and then destroy the evidence. That, and she's impulsive.

Love,
Mommy Dearest