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Monday, Mar. 31, 2003 / 7:37 p.m. ~This One's a Bit of a Struggle~ Well, it seems Army Dude may be gone, and I feel weird about it. Either he got the message, reading where I said I might lock this thing, or he read something he didn't like, or he didn't like the fake war poster, or he got tired of emailing me and getting no reply. Either way, it's weird for someone to read my diary several times a day and then suddenly stop. Welcome, but weird. It's not that great, I sometimes read it myself, and it's just pure drivel mostly. Especially if you go back a year or so, just Lulu this and Lulu that, and work, and cats, and I hate people, and I'm white and they're black and I'm being persecuted and everyone hates me, and good, because I hate them too, and blah, blah, blah. I honestly consider deleting it all the time. But I never do. This morning my heater came on! I haven't used heat or a/c in at least a month, maybe more, so yeah, it was cold in here for the heat to come on. I have it set to about 63 I guess. Which isn't really 'cold' if you're outside, but when you're inside, yes. I have nothing to say, really. It was a really busy day at work, we worked, for a change. I said little to anyone. Listerine informed me, FIRST THING, that Quincey's father 'passed'. Then Penelope told me. Penelope only talks to me if she wants something, if she's collecting money for someone's birthday cake or something, so I hate when she stands up in her cube and addresses me. I'm automatically on my guard. Yes, yes, I know he 'passed'. So what do you want me to do? Dude was old, OLD, he just had both legs amputated because his bed sores caused gangrene. Okay, that's really gross, I'm sorry. It's true though. So they put him through all that crap, and he dies anyway. Why do that to people?! Grrrrrr...... Fucking nursing homes. My father was in one of those before we got him in the Catholic place. Nuns may be notorious for rapping little kids on the hands with rulers, but they take really good care of the dying. And they don't want money in return. I am sorry, really, but what can I do? Why make it a point to tell me? I don't know what's going on in any of those people's lives, yet someone dies and suddenly I'm considered in the loop? They want something, my money for flowers, or my signature on a card. They didn't tell me so I could grieve.... or maybe that's the point. Is that the tradition? Are they supposed to tell as many people as possible so we can all grieve and pray? They know I'm agnostic. That was how my day started. I sat and paid some bills, ordered some CDs from Columbia House. Because after nearly 10 years they just won't go away. Columbia House is a house full of tenacious bastards. Buy one, get two free. What the hell? I'm still fulfilling that ever popular 'membership agreement'. I'm excited though, some old Santana (their first album), some old Grateful Dead (ALL Grateful Dead is old, but this is their first studio album, I think), some old Led Zeppelin (Columbia House doesn't really have any 'new' music I want), "Houses Of the Holy". Of course I have 8 Led Zeppelin albums on vinyl, but it's nice to get them on disc for the Walkman. And then I answered phones, and processed documents. La la la. I ate smoked salmon with Cajun flavorings, and cream cheese on Breton crackers for dinner. I need to go shopping, but tonight, after a really full day of busy phones and busy paperwork, I was exhausted. Still am. And my eyes are strained. I'm squinting even with my glasses on. Boring. I'm so boring right now. Oh wait, War news. I read online that US troops killed a car filled with women and children at a checkpoint. Hmmmm.... That wasn't on the CBS Evening News. But they had the story about Peter Arnett, and Dan looked really nervous while he read it, looking down at his notes, away from the 'prompter. He stammered a bit, no, a lot. What was up with that? Careful, careful. These are dangerous times, my friends. Must watch what we say. Especially if we have a microphone or a camera in front of us. But online? Wheeeeee!!!! Anything goes. Um, so far. Must have a bath, read some antiwar posts at LiveJournal, watch some mindless television, and not do dishes. Maybe tomorrow I'll have something exciting to write. And Army Dude, though I know your real name, it wasn't worth wasting your time, was it? This is just a diary. (I hope they didn't ship you off to the War, dude....) Cost of the War in Iraq
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