diana (me) -- this website's owner/operator; 15/f


patsy -- poet and dreamer; 16/f


meredith -- humorist and saint; 16/f


him -- hunter and listener; 16/m


'fred' -- counselor and taxi; 17/m




23:21;   "Why stop now?" - Madonna, Truth or Dare

16:52;   I moved the futon, looked at it, then moved it back and read the Rolling Stone with the model Gisele on the cover. Then I came on here to blog that. Well, it doesn't work that way with this.
See, Tripod (you know, the host... take a look after that "dulled" up there, won't you?) has decided from day two (day one was pretty nice -- a kind of "come on, be cool, join Tripod, we'll get the banners in a week" type of thing) that they hate me and they want me to die slowly and painfully. And that's why they suddenly decide that they want to do two very bad things: 1) delete my index.html, exposing all of the files on my website (mostly just photos that I forgot about and that are some of private, like a photo of Him and I together... sorry you missed it), and 2) made sure that my password to Tripod was "incorrect" and gave me suggestions to fix it, which eventually didn't work at all. At this point, I'm continuously pressing "publish" on Blogger and itching my head trying to relieve all the dried skin from my scalp. (If you don't know how the Blogger-Tripod thing works -- and if you do, then shh for a minute -- it goes like this: I write a message on blogger.com, and it sends the message via FTP to Tripod, thus appearing on my webpage.) I am really nervous at this point because, well, all of these private files and folders are showing and I can't do anything to stop it. Think of it as sitting naked at your computer, not knowing your webcamera is on and 10 or 20 people are saving the photos of it. Except, in my case, it's more mild.
But, anyway, so after trying this for ten minutes (and causing lots and lots of scalp relief), it works. Eureka. I'm happy now. And then I realize that I have to upload all of the archives again. Good god, I think, I should just die now. I try it, and it takes an exceptionally long time to do so. Then, finally, it's done. I applaud myself, and then finally write the entry that I came on here to write about in the first place. And, just to make myself feel better, delete a few pictures from my webspace.

14:46;   We didn't go to the show, which is sad to begin with, but it's ok. There will be other shows and there's always listening to their demo again and again. It's really good, the demo. My dad listened to "Disappear" and he liked it a lot. He likes the techno-esque stuff. Quite fascinating.
So, instead of going to the show, my parents and I went thrift store shopping. I got a toaster, The Diary of Anne Frank and Watership Down. I think. I will end up reorganizing my bedroom tonight -- furniture and all -- just to have a new feel to the room again. I like the "new feels" to the room. It's very loose, and plus I now have a few things to decorate it with. I'll give you a nice map of my room after the process is over with. Fun, fun, fun.

08:51;   Knowing that I come up first is kind of odd, but in the same instant I think I am the most promising thing found on the search engine.

08:31;   Today is the day of The Transformers show. And I'm going with Patsy and maybe Her. Not entirely sure of it all, actually, because I have no energy going through my soul. But, you know, I'll end up having energy when I get there and stuff. Right now I just feel as if I need cappachino, a donut, and a nice hot shower.


23:46;   Goodnight.
He is going out of town this weekend to visit family elsewhere. I have found a photo of Him that I love, but it was a .BMP file and is currently being edited for my own happiness, as well as made into a GIF, JPEG, and back into its original state of being an .ART. I'll post it tomorrow, I guess. Got to see if I edited it correctly.
The pillow is calling my name, and I must oblige. Ahh, pillows...

23:21;   So, yeah, the outing/adventure/drama/etc is over. Ecstatic, aren't we, to know details? There are really none to give right now, but what I know is what I will tell you. And, while I'm at it, I'll tell you some more about my day. I bought The Transformers demo ($3), which is awesome. There are 6 songs on it, and I like "Disappear" the best. But, you know, it's just kind of weird knowing three of the people in the band -- I mean, I have a class with them. Not necessarily meaning that I know them. But you get the general idea.
So, anyway, my dad said last night, "If it's raining hard, then you can't go." As soon as I got out of the school this afternoon, it was drizzling. As the bus rode away, it got heavier and heavier. As I walked up my drive, soaked, I knew my dad's reaction. And it was perfectly correct: "Diana, if it stays like this, then it's a no. I'm sorry." I stood at the back screen door, waiting for it to slow down. I eventually took a shower just to relieve this itchiness to my hair (from the hairdye after-use stuff), and it wasn't raining afterwards. Then He showed up unexpectedly, we went to his house and waited for "Fred" to show up. It was 4 PM by this time. "Fred" showed up at 6:30 PM, and we took His VCR ("Judy" has no working VCR in her house) and we ventured out to "Judy's" for a last-minute change. "Judy" and I plugged in the VCR while He and "Fred" went to get the movies. Well, they were gone for a damn hour. And they showed up saying they "forgot a movie" in the car. The "forgotten movie" was roses, of course, which are now drying upside down from my telescope. It was a pink flower, very pretty, very pure-colored. I love drying roses, I swear. But, anyway, they rented Any Given Sunday and Eyes Wide Shut. Eyes Wide Shut sucked after 20 minutes, so we started watching Any Given Sunday until 10:45 PM, which is when we unplugged the VCR and left "Judy" at home. And here I sit, listening to music on the laptop and writing an entry for you. Aren't you just so ecstatic? Or whatever. I thought so, too.

06:34;   It won't let me archive this thing, so you got to stick around for awhile -- it'll eventually realize that I really do want to archive the archives. Duh.
Today is the 11 month anniversary. One more until a year, and then what? I don't know. It's going to be rough around that time, with Halloween and all. Tonight, I'm going over to "Fred's" house with "Judy" and Him. "Fred" and Him are going out to rent movies, whereas "Judy" and myself are going to attempt to cook dinner. Consider it dinner and a movie. Then, on Saturday, there's this punk thing going on downtown, and Patsy and I plan to attend to see The Transformers and, if not before then, get their demo. Next weekend, I'm going over to Her house for the night for some "XFiles" mambo-jambo (as opposed to mumbo-jumbo) and perhaps even sleep in sometime.
I have a test today in History. It's not a big big test, but my father is edging me on to get a good grade (80+) in order to hang around Him, Her, Patsy, etc, ever again. So, I guess I have to do better than I've done before on the tests (50s) and actually, you know, achieve a grade that I should be more proud of. I studied in between the phone calls last night that were from "Fred", "Judy", and Him. It took until 10 pm to figure out what was going on. The only holdback to this whole idea is if it rains tonight -- and if it's a hard, pounding rain. My father wants me to pass my tests, and not die in "Fred's" car tonight. It's understandable, I guess. But it's also kind of intimidating to have everything on the evening schedule be destroyed by a storm. Pray for it to pass without much wind, will you? (There's an 80 percent chance of rain this afternoon, and a 60 percent chance this evening.)


22:42;   I don't know what to say.

06:16;   Happy birthday, Liam.


19:42;   Oh my goodness, there is a Mo Rocca website! And, as an added bonus, a webring to match, as well as a second website to visit for my Mo pleasure. This is definitely my form of a heaven -- ooh, too good. (Thank you, Patsy. I owe you one.) If you have no idea who Mo is, take a look at this. Mo is the guy in the middle, Steve Carell is on the left, and Vance DeGeneres is on the right. I also found out a bit about him. Oh, this is the highlight of my day. I'm ok, really. (Hey, it could be worse -- I could still be in my Lance phase. You better be praying that I passed over that stage.)
So, you know, whatever. I went afterschool to my mother's work for face shots "that are going to be used on the Internet". Thus far, I cannot even find the product online. It's called New Youth, but the "New" might be "Nu". Not sure. But it doesn't matter. I was whisked off to there, and on the way back, I called Him up from the cellphone (Yes, I make it seem as if I am so damn cool. I'm not, don't worry.) and I went on errands with Him and His brother and mother. Fun. I got home an hour ago.
My exboyfriend came by where we ate today. I just kind of looked at him, got this sick feeling in my stomach, then left to go talk to friends elsewhere, leaving Him, Patsy, and Her behind to handle the exboyfriend. I guess I'll have to think of a name for him. This year is going to suck with him always hanging around. Why couldn't it have been Ex instead of him, who happened to be the druggie, loose-pants, "yeah-I'm-your-best-friend-will-you-kiss-me" kind of guy?


20:49;   I've sucessfully broken (oh, excuse me, temporarily destroyed) a VCR. I was planning on recording "Human Nature" by Madonna (My alltime favorite song from her -- don't ask why) and the bastard of a tape decided to be gobbled by my lovely VCR. So my dad is suffering by trying to fix it. And I sit here, blogging.

17:48;   My history teacher called my house today. She told my father that I have "a 'whatever' attitude" whenever I get a test back. She also thinks that I need to read the material (which I do) and focus more on my work rather than other things. "If there is anything that is blocking you from succeeding," my father told me, "Then we'll get rid of it." It was obvious what he meant: He is your problem, and we don't think you should date Him. It's quite obvious of what they like and don't like. After all, they tell me to my face that they find "Fred" better than Him, and that He is just a bad influence. But you know what? Fuck it.
An exboyfriend of mine goes to my school now. It's scary seeing him walking the hallways and smirking at me in the way he used to when we were friends. He is supposedly hanging around the blondes with big chests and flirty attitudes. And he supposedly got kicked out of his last school because of drugs. As someone said today, our school is for the "fuck ups". I agree: there's plenty of druggies here. You just got to know where to look in order to get your own fair share.
Not that I have or anything.
A lady is coming by tonight to clean my face. This should be interesting. My face is like a freaking mountain range right now, and I want it calmed down a little bit.
Amnesia chick is really messing my life up for the moment. She disowned myself and Him as friends, and then she goes around saying, "Yeah, He's my bestfriend" or "I'm His bestfriend." I brought it up to Him, and He hasn't seen anything about it yet. It doesn't matter, anyway. It's His life, it's her life. I just don't feel the same around her anymore.


22:18;   I have nothing really to say about my boring day, so I'll just give you a few little snips and tucks. Hope that's suitable for you.
The "trecherous tropical depression" the US calls Gordon has struck and exited, stage right, without me noticing anything special about it to begin with. Rain, some small winds, then sunshine mixed with some cloud movement. The local weather forecasters were having a giddy time going out to the beach and showing "devastating" shots of 2-inch flood areas where it "might be clogged up by the sewer system, but we do not have an official word on that yet." The school board execs are kicking their own asses right now for thinking that the 70 year old school I go to (as well as every other school in the area, which are all usually built with multiple layers of roofing) will just crash due to a tropical depression. Yeah, sure, it's just like a card-house. Ker-splat.
By the way, there's this news anchorman that does local news here. His name is Doug Weathers. He's in his fifties, aging very nicely, and he acts really nice oncamera, his scratchy voice proclaiming the news in the best way possible. Offcamera, he seems a little... well, not liking of his "fans", or visitors to his set. I just thought I should mention that, since he's a reporter, and his last name is Weathers. I could've always mentioned another reporter, Tina Tyus (the only gal in the photo), but that would've had nothing really to do with the "trecherous" Gordon.
I've been up since 6 am. I went over to His house from noon til 4:45 pm. It was quite an interesting adventure over to his house. Nothing really special to report. We just sat around in his house on a couch, watching tv side-by-side. Then I came home to play Rollercoaster Tycoon. Yes, I left His house so I can play (and, in the end, give up on) a computer game. Yes, I am a dork.
By the way, I really need to charge batteries tonight. I'll think of some witty/smartass comments to say in the am, when I am actually -- gasp! -- forced to go to school. Oh, the shame! By the way, I have to do a skit on cynicism tomorrow. (The page had the word "cynicism" in it when I searched for it through Yahoo!. Simplistic and cute design.) If I have time afterschool, I'll type up the entire script on here. It's pretty damn long. We're doing it in an infomercial point of view. I play the roles of Announcer and Caller 2 (The announcer just has to read the fine print and introduce the star of the information, "Skip Whirlee", played by a drama major; Caller 2 is just a lady who called in to the informercial to explain how the actual product, a book on cynicism, helped her, but she gets off topic and is eventually cut off. There are four of us in this group. It's going to be awesome -- and, best yet, I didn't have to memorize lines because I'm offstage most of the time. Go me, go me.)

18:21;   I'm sorry to say this, but it's pretty fucking scary to hear Patsy say, "OK, I have my butt in a hamper now."

07:52;   I hate Mondays, anyway.

06:40;   The good news: We do not have school today, due to the threat of tropical storm Gordon.
The bad news: Paranoid parents won't let us go on the computers ("What if the power goes out?"), visit friends, or -- at points, maybe -- watch tv. And the power can go out at any time. And we have to make it up later on in the year.


18:24;   My parents are still glued to The Weather Channel, expecting some nasty coverage on it. "YOU MUST EVACUATE," the imaginary report would say, "THIS TROPICAL STORM IS HIGHLY DANGEROUS, EVEN THOUGH IT'S ONLY 45 MILES PER HOUR WINDS." When they show the local coverage, it's more jittery and fuzzed than it is on The Weather Channel, and we've only succeeded to get a drizzle and perhaps 5 mile per hour winds. Whereas, the crazy-asses in Atlanta (Where TWC is located) are facing wind storms and yet have clear transmissions.
We need better equiptment. And perhaps an excuse to get out of school tomorrow. That'd be really nice.

17:13;   Found in referrals: naked toes.
so provocative.

17:04;   The outskirts of the hurricane are finally sprinkling over where I live. Will it get worse? Maybe, but it's most likely not. Patsy's in Florida right now, near the coastal regions of Georgia. She's coming home today, storm or no storm. So far, it doesn't seem too bad. Expected winds of 25-30, last timeI I checked. And the fact that it's now upgraded to a tropical storm warning instead of a watch is slightly disturbing.
I haven't been feeling too good this evening. Maybe I'll get some good sleep tonight.

13:50;   Draw The Line, a project brought to you by Her.

11:29;   Yesterday, my car was washed, gassed up, fixed, and driven. By me. I drove it to WalMart, and bought hair dye. My hair is back to its natural brown. No more red streaks in between the layers. During the time we were in there, my mom made me sit on the ground so she could match up my roots to the color samples that were available. The color chosen? "Dark Brown". My natural color may be slightly darker or lighter than this, but it'll do. (If my natural look was a hair dye, it'd be called "So Dark Brown Its Nearly Black But It's Got A Tint of Red, Too".)
Riothero.com has closed its weblog doors for a project of sorts featured at his other domain, hero.nu. I read it earlier today, but I guess it didn't make sense until it was mentioned elsewhere. I'll miss the blog. I guess I'll be visiting (and blogging) 2xy.org and electricbiscuit.com a hell of a lot more.
Matt (Chi-Xiang) looks a little blank lately. He promised a redesign over 20 days ago. Where are you, Matt?

09:16;   Hurricane Gordon threatens Florida -- And it has a possibility to hit us here on the Georgia coast if it goes along a track that has already been determined by meteorologists. Here's another photo of where it is as I type this. If it goes straight upwards, there's going to be another panic as there was last year (a few days over, actually) and no ones going to evacuate this year. I mean, Floyd moved more north only a day after everyone in the Chatham County area was forced to evacuate. Oh, that was a pissy time. I doubt people would want to leave again. It hurts too much.

April, April, Chad, Ernie, Evan, Firda, Fred, Grace, Heather, Jack, Jason, Jerwin, Jessica, Jish, Liz, Matt, Meg, Mike, Neale, Nikolai, Patti, Tom, Tom
webloggers / blogger

01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 21; home