February 4, 2002
I’ve got to eat dinner.
February 5, 2002
It’s the most wonderful thing! And what a shame I can’t tell Powell! Dad told me tonight, after first saying that I mustn’t tell anyone that I know it, that he and Mom may be taking us to the Bahamas this summer! How exciting that would be. I asked if we would be going by ship and he said that no, we’d fly. Everyone is a little iffy about flying these days. Oh, I hope we go! If we do, I’ll be sure to write all about it! I wonder where we would stay and what the hotel would be like? Somehow I imagine a small hut, even though I know that is not where we’d be staying. I wonder if we’d stop in Mexico or some other country on the way, because we would after all be flying into the Caribbean, which is quite far away from Beautiful Town. Oh, to fly over water! It would be my first time out of the United States. Imagine, the farthest south I’ve ever been is Myrtle Beach State. What fun it would be. We’d have to stay for some time, of course, after flying all that way (over a thousand miles).
February 7, 2002
Oh, it’s so bad I almost can’t bear it. The peace talks that my cousins have been trying to use in Renaldi (Country Music State) have failed. The Rebel Empire has grown to over one thousand people. The people hate my cousin Elizabeth. We are going to pretend now that Sarah has betrayed Elizabeth. Also, Sarah came up with the idea that we start a colony in Decaying State this summer. We had intended to meet there to work on our constitution, but that was before the Revolution. Now we’re meeting in a time of war. Sarah knows some other people in Country Music State who will take her side. If only they weren’t so big. At this point they’re far larger than us. Of course, if we win it will mean that our Empire would be huge. If we actually conquered them. They’re growing at an alarming rate, though, and I fear that this will be a hard war to win. I am seriously considering starting a colony here. I just don’t know, though. Beautiful Town is safe. Out of the whole world, it’s safe. To bring that warfare to my own home…I hope that we can successfully start a colony in Decaying State this summer. Oh, how I hope for my country, my poor country. Even Powell, who doesn’t care about the Imperial Empire, became mad at the injustice of what is happening to us. I started all of this. All of these hundreds of people are in their nations because of me, and now they’re leaving. How could they do this? What gives them the right to do this?
February 8, 2002
It’s wonderful! It seems that there is hope for my beloved country! Today we added two more provinces to the Imperial Empire, and they are Atricia and Andrea. Atricia is ruled by King Smith and Andrea is ruled by King Travers. These are the first two Provinces to actually be touching each other. The border goes straight through Ben’s house. He is a friend of Powell’s who serves as a soldier. Our house would be in Andrea, but because it is the capital of the whole country, it isn’t part of any province. Ben is an Atrician troop, because I can tell by looking at the design of his house that his bedroom is on the Atrician side. These provinces will be huge, I know. King Smith plans to get at least fifty people. It is all very exciting. Now if only Renaldi were free. If only we could win this damn war.
February 19, 2002
I was just looking over a journal that I started on July 1, 2001, and that I ended only twenty-three days before September 11, 2001. Oh, it turned out that Elizabeth and Sarah were lying about everything. No one outside of our family is ever to know that, though. I’m not exactly sure why, but I think it would be wiser not to tell anyone. Today is Tuesday, and it’s the end of a four-day weekend. I only have three school days this week, thank goodness. I detest school. Who will ever read this? My cousin Rowdy Cousin is here today. Powell doesn’t like him much. Thomas does. I am neutral on the matter, but I can see what Powell would find annoying. To think that I started my last journal in July. I am so congested. I cannot wait to hear from my mother Anne. I cannot wait for Friday. On Friday I am going with Grand Ma Normal Family to see a movie (most likely “A Walk to Remember,” as she’s too scared to see a horror movie) and then we are going back to her house in Grand Ma’s Town, where I will stay Friday and Saturday night, plus all day Sunday. It’s still quite early, not yet ten o’clock. I was up at 7:45a.m. I recently did something very funny. I checked Powell’s e-mail (email@example.com) and saw that a girl named Stupid Fifth-Grader had e-mailed him about twenty-five times. So I sent her back an e-mail that went like this: “Haw, haw, toot, toot! Are you a monkey stalker with testicles? You’ve send me more e-mails than you weigh in pounds, and that’s like three frickin’ tons! And that’s just your balls! Balls, you have balls! I’m glad you live in Bad Town so that you can’t—”
I believe it’s around noon now. I’m not sure. Powell, Thomas, and I were supposed to be punished. Mom gave us unfair punishments. So we went to something called The Courts, which is where Powell, Thomas, and I get together and judge our punishments. I think we’re quite fair, and it’s working very well. It’s such a nice day out. Thank goodness there is no school, because it would be a true shame to be in school on a day like this. I’m sitting in a rocking chair and looking out my window as I write this. The sun is out but there is a cool breeze. My glass chess set is sitting in front of me, and as the light hits the glass figures it looks very beautiful. There is a screen over my window. This makes me glad, because I used to hang my head out and I was constantly worried about falling. Now I don’t have to worry about self-control. I fear that my writing is very sloppy. I find it very difficult to write longhand sometimes. I need to practice my neatness if this is to be at all legible. I need to practice my neatness, oh, damn! This is quite frustrating. I wonder if I spelled that right. Lunch is almost ready, so I will now go downstairs. I will take some books with me. I have started reading Pride and Prejudice. I’m sure I misspelled that. Oh! All of my efforts to maintain neat writing seem to be in vain. I think that lunch is ready now, so I really have to go. Midnight just jumped up into my window. It’s really funny. Powell would be amused, but he is downstairs and I daren’t call him. Midnight is so peaceful. It’s a shame that I will soon have to close the window. Well, no. She is so content that I think I’ll let her sit there. I had to close it. She was leaning against the screen so, it made me nervous. I’ll open it again soon.
February 23, 2002
Today is such a wonderful day. Last night, Grand Ma picked me up. We’ve had a delightful time. We’re going to the movies. Grand Pa is not coming with us, unfortunately. I really wanted him to. We’re going to see “A Walk to Remember” because Grand Ma won’t see a horror movie. The only thing that spoils this weekend at all is that I have to find resources for my bibliography. My handwriting is disastrous. Well, not really.
Grand Ma and I went to see “A Walk to Remember.” It was a very sad movie. Grand Ma even cried. I did not. It was sad, I’ll admit. We’re on our way to dinner. We’re discussing the political world. Grand Pa has very heated views. I have my own views. None of them include racism. Grand Pa does not think that there will be a World War. Dad does. Two missionaries have been captured. World War is looking like a serious possibility. I hate my cursive. The world is a busy place. We’re almost there. It’s been so hard to write, what with being in the car.
It is very early on Sunday morning. I just saw American Pie II. We saw another movie that took place in Greece during World War II. Here are a list of things I want to do:
1. Get married
2. Have kids
3. Go to Greece
My handwriting is still terrible. I have to do that gay brochure for Health. I have to work on that. I have until March 4th, I think. By March 1st, I have to get my permission slip in to go to Gettysburg. I have to get a spiral notebook. The U.S. economy is sinking. World War III is about to blow up in our faces. Does the stress never end? I can’t wait until this summer. There’s so much I want to do. Okay, I start work on the Health project on Monday, or by Monday. Why is the weekend so short? I hate that, short weekends. I want to go to a beach house like in American Pie II. There’s something hysterical going on. Summer, hurry up! It’s almost March 11th. It’s almost half a year since September 11th. I remember it like yesterday. I want to go to Ground Zero. That can be another of my ambitions.
February 24, 2002
It’s days like this one that just being alive is a great joy. I just got a shower, changed into fresh clothes, and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. The sun is shining and the birds are singing. What a beautiful day. I think that the most wonderful days are Sundays. I suppose that God makes them that way. I hate Mondays and Tuesdays. September 11th was a Tuesday.
February 26, 2002
I called Grand Ma Weird Family tonight. She sent me history videos, she sent Powell Harry Potter books, and she sent Thomas a scooter. She must have spent quite a bit of money. Here is a funny story I wrote:
“It was not long after our parents and her parents had left that my brother, cousin, and I were sitting at my kitchen table watching television. Idiot Cousin had been telling us about her dad and how rich he was, and how great he was. She had just said how they were going to France this summer. Powell and I exchanged a look of skepticism, and we both agreed on one thing: we knew more about her dad than she did. She couldn’t know, though. Then the commercial came on. ‘Have you been considering Viagra?’ I gagged on my soda and Powell kicked me under the table. ‘What?’ Idiot Cousin asked. I spit the soda into the sink and ran into the next room. ‘What’s so funny?’ I heard her ask Powell. Powell was laughing too hard to answer. ‘What do you know!?!’ she yelled. ‘What’s so funny about my dad? I think he’s cool!’ Then Powell said something to her that was muffled, and she began laughing hysterically. I emerged and asked, ‘What did you say to her?’ Smiling, Powell said, ‘Your dad’s a big softy.’” Here is the letter Grand Ma Weird Family sent me:
“February 20, 2002. Dearest BB, This has been a very difficult time for me. Grand Pa and I had been married for almost 53 years. My life now is about adjustment. Some of it is bad, some of it good. Time is the very important part of grief, it alone can bring a change. I am sending this course to you, I believe it will stimulate your imagination and your interest in history—”
There’s more on the back, that can be un-taped later.
[Back read: “If you like it and find it helpful I will be very pleased. This course will put you ahead of most people, let me know if you like it. This must be a difficult time for you, new home, new school, new acquaintances. If you would like to spend some time here, this summer I would love to have you. I do not have a lot of exciting things to offer you but we could read, talk, go to some flea markets, and perhaps even do some cooking. I would find great pleasure in your company. Love, Grand Ma.”
I have to go to bed now.
February 27, 2002
I don’t know how it still hurts. It’s been so long, but thinking about Old Middle School still hurts.
It is around eleven o’clock. I had to write. The reason is, I am becoming sick of all these scanty entries. A journal is meant to write in, not to sit and do nothing. I recently found out that I actually wrote in a journal four days before September 11th. It’s been nearly half a year now. I still remember it very clearly. The weather was so nice, to the point of irreverence really. I just finished an excellent novel. I am writing my own novel. I think it is quite good. Thank God for blessing me so with the gift of writing. I really should be going to bed now, although I feel the urge to keep writing and writing until I have filled up several pages. I should have four journals. Instead I only have three. I’m not sure where the other one is. It contains some hairs of mine from last summer. My hair has actually gotten pretty long. My eyebrows are very thick. How annoying it is. It’s funny, really; the hair I want grows slowly, and the hair I don’t want grows all too fast. Nearly half of this book is used up. You know, one day someone is going to have to get me a very nice journal, not another Harry Potter one. As I have said before, journals should be generic. I suppose I’ll go to bed now. Goodnight.
February 28, 2002
I picked the perfect night to finish my novel, the one I was reading. My flashlight’s batteries went dead tonight. I was most disappointed. I was just starting to read another novel, called You Belong to Me. I only read one chapter, but I think that On the Street Where You Live was much better. I’ve noticed that Mary Higgins Clarke, the author, writes about the same things in different books. For example, in On the Street Where You Live, Emily Graham, the main character, was a defense attorney. Another defense attorney has already shown up in her other novel. Also, the name Douglas is mentioned in both novels. Dad angered me so tonight. He sent me to bed at 9:30, and for no reason. I tell you, it’s very frustrating. I wrote him a very strongly-worded letter, which I gave to him earlier. I am not sure yet if he has read it. Goodnight.