Is it just me, or has everything (literally) turned sour? It feels like there's a mat of dust in the back of my throat, and no matter what I drink or how much I drink, I can't get it off. Rather irritating.

It's 11:16 pm, and I'm irritating my mom for keeping her up all night. The computer's in the parent's room, and my dad is sleeping downstairs. Right now she's in the bathroom with her rack of magazines trying to cool down and not blow up on me like she does with most people. It's funny, but her yelling and screaming hardly affect me anymore, for after years and years of it it's almost reactionary.

Hm... Blow looks like a rather good movie. Recently, a wave of 70-stylized movies have been hitting the silverscreen. Why are people fascinated and so enamored with nostalgia. I've noticed that, more so in America than in most countries, people hold onto memorabilia and other trinkets of the days of old. Take a look around you and you'll see all the 50's diners which have been erected recently, and all "retro" styles everyone seems to wear today. Even look through your grandparent's stuff and you'll find a plethora of yellowed photographs.

The way I see it, this is the breakdown of the 20th century in decades:
1900 - people are transitioning to a more casual lifestyle
1910 - the duldrum of uncharacteristics
1920 - wine, revelry, song
1930 - the great depression, enough said
1940 - a sense of new-found peace
1950 - the new victorian era: suburbia boom, innocence reigns
1960 - people shed the restraints of the previous decade
1970 - the time fashion forgot, a constant party
1980 - the hangover of that previous party
1990 - the age of MTV
2000 - realizing that the 70's were the best times of our life, retro-styles return

Fellow Health classmate and buffy infatuator Wes directed me to his own personal diary and collection of poems/songs he wrote. Although not to my complete liking, these poems wouldn't ring so loudly had I not know him personally. Sure, I'm not exactly his closest friend.. or even close for that matter, but I can sympathize with his pangs of angst and love and lust for life. Afterall, we're both stuck in this melting pot called highschool together.

And the story I've wrote has been erased, the sweater I knit unravelled. It all started with a simple confession from J and then Eric began to piece together the puzzle. Several people have come up to ask me "did you write those letters he got?" and I would deny. Not for the fact that I'm ashamed I wrote those letters, but that I don't want to be seen as a freak or a stalker. But with how gossip spreads like wildfire at my school... by the time we get back from spring break (next week) everyone will know about me. And that's upsetting. I hate being forced to admit things of myself; it's almost a kind of mental raping of my personality. I don't give out secrets so easily, not even to this forum which sounds like I share everything. I believe that, once you tell every secret you have, you become boring and people become disinterested with you. Many people who I've talked to who've been divorced told me two things about why they did, and one was that they became bored.

Can't write anymore, mom cranky.