I have a Latin quiz tomorrow. I finished Bridget Jones’ Diary for the third time (I think?) the other night. (For some reason I have read the sequel many more times, perhaps because I have it in paperback.) My front porch has been painted, and Grace is not yet back from Chicago. I’m not letting myself download any more episodes of the L Word until next weekend. I tried on some shoes today that I think may help me in my dream of becoming Bette Porter, and always looking sleek, put together, and beautiful, even when very sad. The shoes are key.

I meant to be Elton John’s Tiny Dancer yesterday, but over the past few days I realized that it was too subtle to really make sense, and just ended up being Eileen Dressed Better than Usual, or perhaps, Girl Dressed in Roommate’s Clothing, or, if I was lucky, Maybe a Ballerina.

I got a little confused coming home last night, and I think I cursed out loud right as someone I sort of know walked past me. I can’t decide if this was evidence of my drunkenness or if I’m just always like that.


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