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Number One: I finished A Million Little Pieces by James Frey the other day and immediately threw it in the trash. It made me feel like shit the entire time I was reading it. I had to take three breaks during the book, one of which was a month long, because I felt so rotton but I really wanted to know what happened in the end. Let me break it to you: Nothing even NEAR uplifting happens. After I finished I felt so bad about myself I was actually in fear of becoming a crack addict. As if it is a daily temptation, or something. After I threw it away I read the last volume of Series of Unfortunate Events in two sittings and felt much better about myself.

Number Two: I'm following Anna's advice and not doing anything until at least a week after I get back in school, so as not to confuse boredom with actual feelings. I also attempted to go to a bar by myself tonight, but it turned out to be less interesting than I thought. In the end, I walked out before getting a drink and ran into two old friends at Coffee Bean. Only one of them is kind of an ex-friend, and though I invited myself to sit down at their table, I wanted more than anything to be back at the bar counter. I'm glad I don't have to be her friend anymore.

Number Three: My mother and I are going movie hopping tomorrow, right after I add my new car to the insurance policy. We will be packing lunch, and she will be paying. I'm stoked.