March 26, 2003

• As they say, all good things must come to an end.   Yesterday was hectic, hectic, hectic.  Pressure was on to Please Leave The Cabin.   Thad lined up some vacationers for tonight through the weekend and was going to have a conniption fit if we weren't outta there by five so he could check out the premises before they signed in.   But we had to hit the road for the land of academia anyway for registration, so the timing was right on.   It sure was fun while it lasted.  We started cleaning up the place after a hefty brunch at one of the little cafes on the wharf.   Brett finally noticed my new eating program and raised his eyebrows when I ordered a cheese danish and side of country sausage in addition to a three-egg stuffed omelet with cheese sauce, hash browns, and toast, fattening foods I usually never touch.   It was the nondiet Pepz that first gave me away.  ("Good girl!  I've been trying to get you off of that cancer ever since we met!")  But he has yet to say anything about the food, having an athlete's high metabolism and being well-pleased with the leftovers.   

  
  

  My stormy mood the other day quickly subsided with a call to Chelle, who's been kicking around Ventura with Bruce.   I'd sent her some excerpts from my blog along with D.J.'s sado-masochistic story, and she feels the lady's clearly trying to put me down and break my spirit, probably so I won't write anymore and say anything about her.  I don't know who would notice any leak of personal information, as I write under a pseudonym and change everyone else's name and often other details as well, but when you're as guilty as Deege of the same, you're fucking PARANOID.     It was a wonderful, supportive talk that made me feel truly blessed.   Chelle thinks D.J.'s older sister, who works for the network and keeps tabs on everyone they know, should be canned for abusing her privileges and harassing a member.   It's super-odd how her blog showed up on the Recently Updated list the same time I wrote my entry, as if she wanted me to see her handiwork and get hurt.  I shouldn't get too worked up about it, though;  no matter how hard the bitch tries to strut with my own style, she can't come up with my warmth and unique insight and sense of humor.   She's too twisted and rotten, and the bitterness always shows through. The conversation would've been perfect had I not made Chelle a trifle miffed refusing to let her have my URL so she could read my whole page.  I had to lie and say it was a website, just something for school with a few samples of my creative writing, not a blog, to steer her off track. 

  
  

  I feel like a regular sea-faring lass after having taken the ferry across the windy bay for adventure in the big city every day since last Saturday.   Unlike my parents, who've been avoiding the streets of San Francisco like the plague, Brett's not intimidated at all by the demonstrations; in fact, he liked nothing more than to find us a safe lookout so he could watch and video the processions.  Not much to do around Marin but shopping, and what poor student has money for that?  Class starts next week.  I got every course I wanted.  Gotta buy BOOKS.  (yawn)   

  • 9:54 pm
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