Well. There's nothing I can think of, nothing clever to try to sum up this entry. Gobbledygook. Harry Potter and death and running and relative clauses. There.
Sunday, Mar. 07, 2004 - 21:20

Did I ever tell you that I joined the health club? I didn't tell you, but I did. It was a month ago or so. And the first time I got on the treadmill and started jogging, all of a sudden, bam, the endorphins hit my gizzard and my legs started glowing and they were all fuzzy and I was all, "Yeehaw, I'm jogging again." It had been months since I'd jogged.

I hated jogging until last year, and then all of a sudden I started liking it. It's inexplicable.

And now for something completely different.

Today at work, Connie, who is constantly confused, who has breath like fresh manure, who walks around with her head in her own personal cloud, who ran straight into a parking barrier with her extralarge car one afternoon after we got down from the mountain, who sometimes has mascara in her hair, who wears pants with strange too-young-for-her bows on them, who makes for fun relative clauses, had to go to the hospital. She passed out and got all red and started shaking. A few days ago one of the other supervisors said, after Connie had left after just an hour after coming all the way to work AGAIN, "Connie's going to go home and DIE. She's not well." Well.

There are some things that you don't talk about or even think about. Like all of a sudden you'll look around and think, "Hmm, it's been a while since someone I know has died." And then you stop thinking that as quick as you can, your mind changes the subject so you don't jinx yourself.

And then all of a sudden someone you know dies. And then another person dies. And then another. Just like that, bam bam bam.

And then after a while everyone stops dying, the dying tapers off, and maybe a couple years will go by, and you'll get that thought again. Hmm, it's been a while.

I don't know if anything was even seriously wrong with Connie, and I'm probably killing her right now by typing this.

So I'll change the subject.

Ummmmmmm, ummmmmmm, I can't think of anything.

I'm going to wear a white shirt tomorrow even though, as an inspector, I'm supposed to wear a black shirt. Lowly room attendants wear white shirts. But just watch me, I'm so badass, I'll wear a white shirt. I'm sick of wearing black shirts every day. Also, I don't want to do laundry tonight.

My hair is in pigtails. This is a new thing I'm trying, a new way to try to control my GODDAMN OUT-OF-CONTROL HAIR. SOMEONE HELP ME. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO CONTROL MY HAIR AND I'M 28 YEARS OLD. IT'S SAD, IT'S JUST SAD.

I'm reading Harry Potter now and it's the only thing I care about.