My computer was dead, but has been resurrected. Actually, it's quite the funny story.

I tried to turn on my computer last week and it was all "blah blah blah Hard Error" and I thought to myself, "wow, that's not good" but it didn't really bother me because I had all my important files backed up. So my dad took it to work to have some of his lackeys fix it, then told me that it needed a new hard drive. That was fine with me; new hard drive, whoo-hoo!

Naturally, I assumed that when I got the computer back, it would have the standard windows backgrounds and stuff, being new. Instead, when I turned it on, I saw my old custom wallpaper. My dad came in smiling and said that the "lackeys" had changed their mind and figured out that they really *could* recover all of my files, and put it all back exactly the way it was, on my new hard drive. It really wasn't necessary for them to do all of that, and I think it took them several hours, but my dad has an odd way of putting the fear of God in people by not saying anything at all.

Throughout most of my life, that has been a rather annoying and inconvenient quality in a father. It's nice to know that something good has finally come of it.

My compter at home is dead, so I'm furtively updating from the school library....

So. It's been a hell and a half.

A very dear friend of mine, whom I haven't spoken to in a few weeks, is in the hospital after ODing on aprin while drunk. Remember Former Friend? I have reason to believe that not only has he been encouraging her drug use/depression, but he has in fact turner her against me. I'm sure he's been giving her the sob story of how mean I am to him (my faithful readers can find the truth in my archives) and I've been told that she doesn't want to see me by other friends who visited her over the weekend. I may sound reasonable and coherent now, but it was all I could do last hour to keep from bursting into tears during Offenbach's Neighbor's Chorus. It feels like the situation with *him* all over again, and if I think about it too much I might lose it. After all she and I have been through together, after all I've tried to do to be there for her and help her, he has somehow made her hate me as well. I was recently warming up to the idea of speaking to him again, especially since we have to work together on the literary magazine again, but now....

I told him I didn't hate him and that he was forgiven for everything that happened in our relationship. Now he's contributed to putting my friend in the hospital and turning her against me. My relationship with her should have been sacred to him, but apparently he has even less a sense of decency than even I thought.

I really hope I can forgive him for that, too, but right now I don't see how.

Yes, I'm finally updating....

Since you're all just dying to know, my bridge ended up sucking about as much as I thought it would. I got a C on it. It was horrible. However, it didn't effect my grade, because I got 40 extra credit points for coralling Sophomores for a day for a comprehensive science review before their standardized tests. So I guess it all worked out in the end.

My new job is fine, and I like my co-workers, the only problem is that they expect me to work 7-8 hour shifts standing up and running around with no breaks or food. When I asked about this, my boss said, "Well, generally you should just try to eat before your shift," which of course makes sense, unless your shift is 8 hours long.

...

In other news, even though I'm starving myself and running around all day, I'm still fat. Somehow. I weigh about 10 pounds more than I usually do, and I can't for the life of me figure out why. This has not make shopping for a Prom dress any fun at all. I've decided that now I should be grateful that no teenage boy wants to take a freak like me to Prom, because this means I shouldn't really have to worry about my figure, because, well, who cares? So far this theory hasn't really worked out in real life. I still hate being fat. Go figure.

The Poetry Slam was last Thursday, but nothing interesting or dramatic happened like I thought it would. Still no contact with Former Friend, and no developments with Someone New. It seems as though I'm stuck right now, and can't go forwards or backwards where boys are concerned. Perhaps it's because I'm so fat now that the bulk of my figure has become lodged in the love-time continuum.

The Literary Magazine needs to be sent in by Friday, which means I have a very long and grueling week ahead of me. Among the other fun and excinting activities on the roster this week, I have: a Baccalaureate meeting on Monday, work on Monday and Tuesday, Madrigal practice Tuesday morning at 7:00am, girls chorus practice Wednesday morning at 8:00am, Writer's Hall of Fame banquet Wednesday night (yay!), voice lessons, state festival choral performance, and wedding shower for my cousin's fiance on Thursday, another state festival choral performance on Friday, and *THEN* (dun dun dunnn....) leaving for the choir trip to Worlds of Fun on Saturday! Yay!

(provided, of course, I survive the rest of the week....)

I'm starting to think I should really, really go to bed. Now. Bonsoir.

Miss you, miss you.....


Where are you? And I'm so sorry.....


Yeah, it's Blink 182, but it's how I feel right now. I started my new job last night. Did I mention it was the grand opening, and as such, everything was free? Yeah. That means everyone ordered whatever they wanted and then walked off. The cook is mean, but all of my other colleagues are quite nice indeed. I think the job will be alright, but last night was crazy. I worked a seven hour shift, practically running the whole time, and didn't get to sit down once. Not once. The closest I came was when we were closing, and I crouched on the floor a bit, which caused so much pain in my knees that I decided not to do that much anymore. Phew.

Also, there's The Bridge. In a moment of desperation at midnight Tuesday night (bridge due: 14.6 hours), I glued cross bracing in the exact center of my bridge, thinking, "Oh, this is a good place. The very center, where the weight will be. That will be strong." Not realizing, of course, that, hey, THAT'S WHERE THE WEIGHT WILL BE. I had just glued cross bracing right where the bolt for the loading block is supposed to go.

...
...

I realized this when I woke up 7 hours later.

I had no time during my other classes, so when fourth hour came (bridge due: 85 minutes) I frantically ripped out the perfected centered cross bracing and proceeded to frantically assemble another cross bracing piece so I could have two, once on each side of the center. I was razoring, super gluing, and pressing as fast as I could. I was going to ask to leave early since I had to be at my new job at 3:00, which is ten minutes after school gets out, which would be impossible unless I left class ten minutes early, but well, this bridge is basically my whole physics grade. Did I mention I was doing all this with numerous razor cuts on my hand, which had conveniently enough been filled with Super Glue (I'm sure that's quite hazardous, btw. The stuff starts out liquid, but quicly hardens into a bonding solid. As such, I imagine that the glue was seeping into my bloodstream in liquid form, then hardening inside my veins. It's a wonder I didn't drop dead of a coronary right there, not just from the glue but the pressure as well.)?

I finally get my bridge together (bridge due: 5 minutes) I need to get out of there, to get to my job. With the glue still wet, I take it to Templemeyer for approval, I'm bouncing on my heels, and guess what he says....

"It's about a half a milimeter too narrow."

....
....

(this is another point at which I should have died instantly)

Being a half milimeter too narrow, it will necessarily be disqualified from competition. My only option is to glue two extra sticks on each side to add width, which will also add unnecessary weight that will decrease my efficiency, and may get my disqualified for having an 'outrigger'. At this point I cease to care. I glue on the stupid sticks in five minutes, hand it in and leave. I arrive at work five minutes late and work a seven hour shift.

Now we return to start. Miss you, miss you....

After all that insane work and stress yesterday, and my almost equally busy day today, I still somehow found time to be attracted to and/or become melancholy about the former object of my dysfunction, which I guess removes the indicator "former" from his title.

Dammit.