Separate reasons for each call, and really, I get this way once a year or so. I SHOULD do this around christmastime, in leiu of cards, but my bio-rhythyms don't sync that way.

I've been trolling through d-land,and picked up a couple of diamonds from the mass of self-absorbed mewling and brainless chattering. If you've aver participated in this il-fated action, than you can understand my sense of hubris. Too many diaries of succulent little girls, living silent, expressing themselves in their rants and babbles, the type of girls I really loved in high school, even though i went out with a different type. And then the pathetic, "I wore chiffon, and cuddled with my cat. And Brad got something on my sweater in 4th period....oh MY GAWD! I can't believe he did that! what a dork! So leslie, call me."

Not that I dated extensively in h.s. It was a weird time, and I was proud to be among the weirdest of the weird...stoned each day, often before school, dressing loudly and strangely, capturing the loyalty of the mob, drawing the ire of the treachers. Doing every sport, the lead in the school play, thrice president of my class(only ran three times), and no one knew the extent of my idiosyncracies, let alone the rampant pot smoking.

I'm pretty sure they had no idea what to make of me. What do you say to the kid who wears bullwinkle slippers to school one day, dresses like greg brady the next, and then settles on a loud tie, striped shirt, beige slacks and penny loafers. Its how nature says, "Don't Touch". Couple that with acidic sarcasm to anyone who would dare question, and violence to those would try to bully in my prescence, let alone me, as well as bizarre logic, and you see what I mean.

Then, everyonce in a while, I'd answer every question a teacher posed for a week, just for the fuck of it. Goddam I was bored.

It was most likely all sheer boredom. The same routine day in and day out spawns strange thoughts in my head and a desparation to break the monotony. So what if I peed in my own locker and flirted with the teachers? I made for decent entertainment.

And my crush? She always tolerated the way I behaved, and trusted me implicitly. I will always love her for that.

D-land, to me, is a lot like high school, in that, I read certain diaries, and I realize its bullshit, but i still stack it against my own experiences, which are true, and feel like a champ. I suppose I wish, on a certain level, that some of these tales of partying and resultant melancholy weren't true, that my emotional state stayed at the same level, and I led a dull normal life...y'know, got a girl, got a job, got a house, got kids, got middle age, got death.