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Tuesday, Dec. 17, 2002 / 1:33 p.m. ~Tense~ The mood has really changed, and I'm not sure it's only me. I feel a lot of tension in the air. There are things, people, I cannot write about online, that's become really obvious, so I'm thinking I need to yank that notebook from my backpack I carry all over the place, the one I used to write in, and go crazy. I feel like I need to work some things out and I can't do it here, nor at the journal site, especially not there. I found myself discussing my feelings about Sandy with someone, someone who really doesn't need to know, and that's not right. The diary concept is not always well respected at the journal. When I write I am writing a diary or a journal, and it's personal, usually, the sort of thing that might otherwise be considered private, at times anyway, and you're allowed to look on, or in, as a voyeur. That's the draw, the allure. It doesn't mean I want to explain myself, ever. Same old shit. It's happened here too, but not so much anymore. This feels a bit more comfortable except for certain people popping in. This is simply the uncomfortable portion of the program, it comes around again every so often. I'm home at lunch, not eating. There's nothing to eat, and I haven't gotten any cash, so I couldn't stop anywhere, and an hour goes by so quickly..... I'll regret it later. I got my book from the Good Cook finally, only almost 8 weeks after ordering it. Fuck. I just wrote to them to inquire, they just wrote back saying they'd reprocess the order, yesterday, and it comes in the mail yesterday, I can't pick it up, it's at the apts office, I get it today, you see? Now I have to send this one back, wait for the next, or vice versa. Why do things happen like that? I give up. I'm canceling my membership. I have nothing good to say. I'm incredibly irritated, at so many things. I've spent way too much time trying to be friendly lately and I'm ready to crawl back into my own world, where I belong.... Cost of the War in Iraq
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