Journals Section: April, 2003

April 2, 2003

The war seems distant, and its success is debatable. I read an article that made me really think about our entire country in general. The article addressed whether or not the American people would tolerate another large war. The answer reached was a decided no. It made me wonder, though, whether the United States could successfully fight another large-scale war. In both world wars we prevailed as the triumphant defenders of justice. However, although we have since had long wars, we have never again had any on such a large, horrifying scale. Although there have been some close calls, such as the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962. Since, our wars have never been large. Even Vietnam, which left millions dead, was not fought in the same fashion as the two world wars that had devastated Europe. In both world wars, powerful empires (World War I: Germany, Austria-Hungary, Ottoman Empire/World War II: Germany, Italy, Japan) rose to threaten the world, not Third World countries in poverty. We have been lulled into false security, which was furthered by what I was alive to see, but do not remember doing so: the horrendous collapse of the USSR in 1991, hailed by many in the West as a huge victory for democracy. I mourn the loss of the mammoth, 8,000,000-square-mile (eight million sq mile) USSR, every day. This country of enormous size and power kept the world balanced. The Soviet Union stopped the world from being dominated by one country, the United States. However, only the existence of at least two superpowers can balance the world, and the 1991 collapse of the USSR swayed the world one way: the American way. I would recreate the Soviet Union in an instant if given the chance. Then again, would I ever have seen the Russian Empire perish? I don’t know. Recently I’ve been pondering what the ideal nation would be like.

April 4, 2003

Well, if the progress of the war was in doubt two days ago, its current success is indisputable. American, I mean, coalition (but mostly American) forces marched swiftly on Baghdad, accepting about 2,500 surrenders and devastating any who stood to oppose them. Hundreds of Iraqis and a few Americans were killed in the fighting. We have captured the former Saddam Hussein International Airport, now Baghdad International Airport. The airport is actually labeled “Saddam Hussein International Airport” in English. I wonder why so many places around the world also label in English; I do not believe that it is the world’s dominant language. Taking my mind off of the war, I saw a play tonight, called “Anything Goes.” It was quite good. I particularly admired the singing of one of the main actresses. One of the boys sang too lightly and the other often dwindled into such a deep monotone that you could barely hear him, but this one actress’s voice rose up, rich, illustrious, and grand above all the rest. I practically begged Powell to go with me, but he refused for the second time. Last time I went to see “Lend Me a Tenor.” That one was actually much funnier than this one, although this one obviously incorporated much more time and effort into the production. Pretty Girl, a very pretentious girl who sits in front of me in Spanish class, had a minor role in the play. Pretty Girl can be very nice, but I believe that much of it is pretense, and she can actually be quite shallow. Today, I took the first chance that Pretty Girl gave me to devastate her. Now, by first chance, I do not mean the first opportunity to make fun of her, I mean the first time that she made an attack on me. The instant that she made her first minute blow, I laughed, and, in a tone suggestive of my superiority, such as one might use when speaking to someone of lower intellect than oneself, I said, “Oh, Pretty Girl, in a world so full of complexities, it’s nice to spend ninety minutes with someone who’s so simple.” Pretty Girl did not take very kindly to this, and accused me, charging that I had called her stupid, which, of course, I had implied. Now, I don’t really believe that Pretty Girl is stupid; it’s quite the contrary in fact. Pretty Girl is beautiful, funny, and very intelligent. However, there are too many aspects of Pretty Girl that are fake. I really think that despite a bit of a gossipy, pretentious quip now and then, Pretty Girl really is a very wonderful person. She does not evoke much thought, though. Anyway, the play was great. I saw many of my friends there. I sat by myself, as I entered the theater about a minute or two late. If the truth be told, I did this purposely. On the way to the school to see the play, I got an anxiety attack. It was so intense that I almost began to cry. These attacks are recurring and have been so for quite some time, however, if I am as deceptive as I imagine myself to be, I am the only one who knows of their existence. I am almost certain that they are caused by a general fear of social interaction. Years of degradation, the scars of which I will carry forever, have taught my self-conscious that social interaction is synonymous with devastating reaction. I went straight for a bathroom and locked myself in a stall for twenty minutes. Actually, probably closer to thirty minutes. I deliberately waited until the show had started, when I knew that most people would be in the theater and I could make a quiet entrance. I slipped in through a door, took my ticket stub, and subtly found a seat in the back. I was recognized by only several people. Intermission, obviously, was a bit awkward and uncomfortable for me. You know, given our language’s illogical grammatical structure, the word “awkward” is oddly phonetic. After the play, I left the theater, attempting to use a public telephone. For some reason, they didn’t seem to be working, so I went back into the theater to an administrator who gave me access to an office to call for my ride. I had to call the house about three or four times before someone answered. Powell finally did, only to tell me that Mom and Dad (whom we always affectionately call Mama Bear and Papa Bear) left five minutes prior to Powell receiving my telephone call. I went outside and waited. I was amazed and angered when they still managed to be some of the last ones to arrive there. I didn’t say anything about it, though, contrary to my original plan, because they were being so nice. One year ago the Imperial Empire was just recovering from two events, one major one and one lesser one. First, on March 27, 2002, Atricia, Andrea, and Tylendaria seceded the Imperial Empire. The last civil war had just ended six days earlier. On March 20, 2002, Atricia and Andrea had seceded. On March 21, 2002, Andrea rejoined the Imperial Empire, and the Atrician surrender came that night. The Andreans, Tylendarians, and national forces were joined by Gorgan troops in fighting the Atricians. Then came the 27th. Atricia, Tylendaria, Andrea, and, possibly, Cristalia, Nicholia, and Angela were pitted against Renaldi, the Decaying State Territory, the Lobster State Territory, Pheliphias, and the Movie State Territory. The I.E. came its closest ever to cybrogenetic war. The czar accepted constitutional limitations and on March 28, or on the 29, 2002, the conflict was quelled. What could have been a major civil war ended peacefully. The night of the 29th, Gorgan forces marched into Philadelphia, Andrea, and opened fire on Philadelphia Military Base/Natioal Rights Organization. They then marched into Capital City, I.R.R.D., the nation’s capital city, and attacked the Imperial Palace, known as the White House, itself. The I.E. declared war and ferociously attacked the Gorgans, driving them back through San Francisco and into a small strip of Gorgan territory. The Gorgans surrendered, calling the attack a tragic accident and mistake. The I.E. won. Oh, and, just as Tylendaria rejoined the I.E., a small country called Beryllium formed with Imperial consent out of part of Andrea. Beryllium collapsed in early April. Because the Rebel Empire had collapsed on February 12, 2002, ending Renaldi’s siege, World War I finally ended with Beryllium’s collapse in April. I think that it’s funny that the R.E. never existed, because stories of this imaginary entity’s existence caused enormous economic suffering throughout the rest of the nation. Only the Royal family ever knew the truth. Also one year ago today, my fourteenth birthday was rapidly approaching. My birthday is this Thursday. On Friday night we will go out for sushi with family. Next Friday is also the night of the benefit basketball game for Burned Boy, an acquaintance of mine who was severely injured in a fire. I’m going to give my teacher the money for a ticket. Also a year ago my hair was cur short. It had only been about four inches long, and the front had been even shorter than that. Now, I just decided to let all of my hair grow out. I look far too ugly with it short.

April 5, 2003

We are in Baghdad. Not “we,” as in we ourselves personally, but our forces. Today was pleasant. I went to bed around four-thirty this morning and awoke at 7:21a.m. I wasn’t even really that tired. I was weirdly alive and awake all day today. Mom and I briefly clashed this morning when she came into my room for reasons I don’t remember. Oh, wait, it was to put a sheet on my bed. I was having difficulty doing it by myself. That must sound terrible and pathetic, but we’ve always had our parents or maids to do things like that, so, besides the absolute basics, how are we supposed to know how to clean? My mother purposely creates disarray (almost always successfully) in my room with maddening frequency. Today she decided that she needed more room so she wrecked what I consider to be one of my favorite things. She crashed through a scale puzzle of the United States. I am still not quite sure what is wrong with her, but something is certainly not right, not as it should be. I am not referring to possible hormonal activity due to her pregnancy, I mean her entire mental state in general. She openly discriminates between her child and her marital inheritance, and she has already started distinctions between Powell, Pie, and I. She vehemently denies this, of course. She told Powell that if he doesn’t desist in his disquieting antics that she will take her “son and daughter and leave.” She has threatened this with recurring frequency, once about every month or so, maybe a little bit more, for about the last two months.

April 6, 2003

Mr. Crazy Old Fat Guy had a heart attack today. I’ll go into more detail tomorrow.

April 7, 2003

Yesterday was very eventful. There is an immensely fat man named Crazy Old Fat Guy who lives in the expensive townhouses down the street from us. He called me yesterday while I was on the telephone with my grandmother. I call her periodically. I find her intelligent and poignant. She has vast amounts of knowledge in her mind, both literary knowledge and “street smarts” knowledge, gained from watching the collapse of her family’s ancient fortune in 1929 as a result of the stock market crash. She grew up in poverty as a result while her cousins, the children of her father’s more conservative brother, still lived in wealth and luxury. She also watched her parents try to cope with poverty, something that she says that they (and especially her mother) never fully adjusted to. Anyway, as I spoke with her, the telephone emitted a signal, alerting me that someone on the other line wished to speak with me. I pressed the button. It was Mr. Crazy Old Fat Guy. I thought that he was calling about something trivial, as he often does. I told him that no, my father wasn’t there, and I also informed him that I was on the other line of the telephone with someone else. He asked if my mother was there. I said no. He said, “Come on, kid, I wouldn’t bother you unless I needed it.” I told him alright, and I asked, “Mr. Crazy Old Fat Guy, are you okay?” He answered me in a tragic, purely anguished and horrifying tone, free of any trace of melodrama, “No.” I told him to hold on. I told my grandmother that I had to go, that something had come up.

April 8, 2003

I gave the telephone to Dad, who rushed down to Mr. Crazy Old Fat Guy’s house. My father alerted a neighbor when he had trouble gaining access to the house, and the neighbor dialed 911. Then, ten minutes later, as the children watched, awestruck, an ambulance, emergency response unit, and a fire truck rumbled loudly down through our exclusive (for the area) neighborhood and into the townhouse section. Had it been anything but an absolute emergency, Ms. Meddlesome Housewife, one of the annoying housewives who lives in this community, would have had a fit. I can’t believe that she didn’t pop another baby out just hearing the sirens. Mr. Crazy Old Fat Guy had a heart attack. He’s in the hospital today, and describes himself as bored. He is a strong, spirited, funny, fiery man. I hope that God loves, protects, and blesses him and his family plentifully. We also purchased a basketball net for $200.00. We had meant to split the cost of the net with the Neighbor family, our next-door neighbors. We play with their children, Short Boy and Lanky Girl. As a matter of fact, Short Boy was King of Andrea and Lanky Girl was his queen. However, the Neighbors purposely delayed the advance of this purchase, essentially sending a staunch resistance and opposition message to my mother’s attempts to reconcile peace. Our families have been feuding for months. I’ll go into detail tomorrow. By the way, it was snowing and hailing yesterday! I would write more but it’s after ten o’clock on a school night and I should really be getting to bed now.

April 9, 2003

I thought that this was fascinating and amusing that this rift surfaced as an eventuality. Our next-door neighbors the Neighbors operate in a completely different fashion from us. Their home is slightly (by a few square feet) smaller, but their actual property slightly larger. They are very liberal with their children, and have never grounded them for more than a few hours. They are strong opponents of corporal punishment (and are perfectly horrified that my parents implement it), they prefer talking to any type of punishment, and their technique works. I have always thought that such a technique would work. I have preached to my parents to make some concessions, but I would never dream to be as liberal as that. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to live like that, even if I try. They buy expensive and lavish gifts for their children. Lanky Girl is quite possibly, in the modern world, one of the closest things to a model daughter. Short Boy, however, is the exception to the rule. He should be dealt with with harsher, more restrictive methods, such as extensive grounding and revoking of many activities. He doesn’t respond well to the liberal methods of connection, rather he uses them not to get caught again. If he does, when action should be taken, he doesn’t listen, and his parents don’t enforce their decrees. There they have gone beyond liberalism to radical anarchy. However, I still scream out passionately against corporal punishment unless as a tool of absolute self-defense. Short Boy and Lanky Girl are almost entirely unrestricted in their freedom of speech. Short Boy even curses in the presence of his mother, and he is only in fifth grade. I think that this does go too far. Here, on the other side of the fence, things are different. My parents consider corporal punishment a perfectly-acceptable form of discipline. We are punished often, most of the time when no wrong has been done or it is vastly less drastic than the punishment. When we are grounded, it is usually for something that doesn’t warrant such a punishment, or, even if it did warrant it, the grounding period far outstretches the severity of the crime. Sometimes these extensive periods of punishment are for everyday things. Powell was once punished for an entire day last summer for using a “tone” that my father didn’t like. I went through a week-long ordeal last year for telling my mother “no.” My father wanted me to write about five hundred sentences saying “My parents make the rules and I will obey them.” I refused. He threatened me. So, I dragged the process out for as long as I possibly could, always claiming to have an excessive amount of homework or something like that. We both knew what I was doing, but he couldn’t prove it. Although, that didn’t usually stop him. I was secretly doing it on my computer, using cut and paste. When I told them this, they didn’t want to accept it. I balked. At the end of the week my father was so exhausted by the struggle that he decided to excuse me. He dropped my punishments. That was only one win, though. He has gotten rough with Powell, Thomas, and I on more than one occasion. Once, I vividly remember, I asked him to please be quiet. He marched across the kitchen, seized me by my throat, and threw me onto the countertop. He screamed at me and kept his fists around my neck as my mother tried desperately to intervene. I tried to push her out of the way; in a way, I had wanted this. I had wanted an excuse to hit him back for a long time. I screamed in rage and started punching wildly. The fact that I was in such a frenzy prevented me from landing any successful blows, although considering the retaliation if I had, this was probably a good thing. Somehow I wasn’t scared as it was actually happening.

April 10, 2003

Today is my fifteenth birthday. I am fifteen years old. Somehow that doesn’t seem right. Fourteen seems me. But although fifteen doesn’t feel completely natural yet, the age fifteen seems older, sophisticated, and wild, like anything can happen. To quickly conclude with yesterday, while the Neighbors are like the equivalent of a democratic republic or a limited monarchy, our family here, I believe, is closer to the equivalent of the Stalinist regime over the USSR. Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Now, on with my birthday. Last year, on a paper in science class, I wrote “BlackenedBoy, Born: April 10, 1988, Conceived: July 4, 1987.” My friend Beautiful Girl saw and she is in Chemistry class with me this year. She said, “Hey, BB, are you going to put the date that you were conceived again?” We laughed. Earlier in the day, I left the house before anyone had really stayed out of bed. I’ve started getting up at about 5:30a.m. now, although I still leave around 6:55a.m. During first mod, which is Drama, we had to take extensive notes on Ancient Greek Theater. In the middle of the mod I had to leave for Red Cross Club. I am to be Secretary on the Executive Board next year.

April 13, 2003

To continue: no one was at the Red Cross Club meeting, though. There were only about twelve of us there. I was surprised when even the current president didn’t show up. So we were sent back to class early, but not before I agreed to take the position of secretary over the position of vice president, the one that I had originally agreed to. I did this because the president’s best friend wouldn’t stop bothering me about it, and, secretary is a much easier position. Plus, I am relieved of a serious pressure; I no longer have to worry about thinking up all of our projects. Hopefully it won’t matter in a few months anyway. So, I went back to drama, where I collected the rest of the Ancient Greek Theatre notes from the girl who sits behind me. Her spelling was atrocious. But I made due with it, and it was very nice of her to let me use her notes. In second mod we had a difficult test, which I managed a B- on. I was stunned to find out at the end of the Algebra mod that I will be receiving a 91% on this quarter’s report card. Although it is true that I worked very hard in that class, I was sure I hadn’t gotten an A. Chemistry angers me. Had it gone on just a little while longer I would have had a B and a 4.0 GPA, but right now (well, for the report card (and actually, because now we’re in a different quarter)) it’s a 76% and I have a 3.75 GPA. I suppose that a 3.75 isn’t that bad. But it’s not perfect. I could’ve gotten that perfect if only I’d pushed myself harder in Chemistry. Third mod was Spanish. It became just a bit more difficult on Thursday when we had some new vocabulary thrown at us, but once I memorize it things should return to normal. Spanish is always east. Fourth mod, Chemistry, was actually fun; by coating pennies with Zinc, we created the illusion that we had transmuted them to silver. Then, by dropping these Zinc-coated pennies onto the hotplates, we created “gold” pennies. Mom made me the most delicious spaghetti. It was so fulfilling. On Friday night I was very happy. Grand Ma and Grand Pa Normal Family came up and our whole family went out to dinner. Dad, Powell, and I ordered a bit more sushi than usual. I was very happy. I found out on Friday that on this coming Friday, when schools will release three hours (three hours!!!) early, I will be going to my grandparents’ house for the weekend while Powell, Blonde Cousin, Pretty Hair, my mother, my Aunt Ostentatious, and a neighbor girl go to Hick State. Yesterday was fun, too; it was upwards of sixty degrees yesterday, and I was outside a lot. I even tried my hand at shooting some lacrosse. I managed to catch the ball a good number of times, and I scored about three times, despite Lacrosse Boy’s attempts (the majority of which were successful) to stop me. I wrote up a piece of paper on my computer addressed to myself, in which I was referred to as Etienne. This informing letter was supposed to have been sent to me by a secret government agency. I think that it is a great story. Two agents, no more than two agents are referred to. L’Equipe and Mademoiselle are said to be in Washington, D.C., while Monsieur Jacques is here in Beautiful Town. Monsieur Jacques is actually a female agent, so she would be referred to as Mademoiselle Jacqueline, but I actually know a Jacqueline, and I call her Jackie. It was decided that that would complicate things, so I was given the name Monsieur Jacques rather than Mademoiselle Jacqueline to ponder over. Powell is given the name Renee. In the story, there is a radical left-wing secret organization threatening to assassinate President Bush this coming Saturday. Then, when Vice President Cheney take the presidency, a machine emitting a high-powered electronic pulse will disable his pacemaker, killing him instantly. Or, at least within minutes.

April 16, 2003

Then, when the President of the Senate (or whoever is next in line for the presidency) [is sworn in], the leaders of the communist revolution will begin to take over the country by force, not bothering with covert assassinations. Two of the Joint Chiefs of Staff are allied with the communists, and we don’t know which. We cannot arrest them, because the communists will initiate ruthless weaponry attacks. We have until Saturday, the 19th of April, 2003. We must place coded papers in our schools’ public bathrooms, which should disable enemy satellite interception jammer technology. A student is suspected of being an enemy agent. On Saturday we played dodge ball. Lacrosse Boy almost spent the night, but then couldn’t. First Twin told me that Pothead Boy had to cut his ‘fro off. His boss made him. Pothead Boy tried to gel it back, but, quite simply, it was too big. It was long, too. Not as long as mine, but still, he’d been growing it since last August. My hair is 7.25-7.50 inches long. I’ve been growing it for about nine months. Sunday was also nice. About a year ago today, plans for a new Capitol were promptly defeated by Dowager Royalty. There had been a plan for a building in the Imperial District of Philadelphia. Also, on April 10th (my birthday), the Imperial Empire was reorganized into Aria. I had too much homework Monday night. Yesterday was a great disappointment. I was to have my first vocal lesson, but the doctor had to go pick up his son. He has yet to call back. I’ve been told to be as prepared as possible for this July. I’ve started writing my first song for the CD (first verse and chorus completed). I have a lot of homework tonight. I’m trying to convince Dad to let me stay home on Friday, as it’s Good Friday. I truly believe that it should be honored. Plus, almost no one will be in school tomorrow or Friday.

April 18, 2003

Well, I went to school yesterday, I mean, today, and to tell you the truth, I’m rather glad that I did. School only lasted until 11:30a.m. As a result, classes were rather short. The longest one (mod three, which, for some reason, always seems to be the longest one when we have early dismissal) was only about an hour long. In Drama, we watched “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” It got laughs out of at least most of us (not that there were that many people there, anyway), including myself. Homeroom was fast. Second mod seemed to go by in five minutes (odd, given that it was Algebra). The only work that we did was reviewing how to operate calculators so as to get them to properly perform a function. Third mod (Spanish), was by far the funniest of all of them. Our Spanish substitute was one of the best that we have ever had. He was only about twenty-three, having graduated from Beautiful Town High School in 1998. That seems, when thought in terms of years now that I’m in high school (where they seem to pass rather quickly) not too long ago. But when I think back to myself in 1998, before the Eve of the Millennium, before 2000, before the 21st Century, it seems eons ago. On this date in 1998 (which would have been about two months before his graduation), I was in fourth grade and I was ten years old. I had dreams that never materialized and I made promises of good grades that never came true. I writhed in frustration for lack of an outlet to get into the acting business, acting being what I considered to be perhaps my greatest talent. I had not discovered singing yet, although my choice of volume when I spoke should have been somewhat of a prelude to that. How things have changed in the five years since then. Now I get to make a CD this summer, my grades are excellent, and I am finally beginning pursue things I like, not just dream about doing it. It’s so exciting to think I’ll get to be in a recording studio this summer. I’ll have to get someone else to do my vocal lessons. Dr. Vocal Coach, the former spouse of my homeroom teacher Ms. 9th Grade Homeroom Teacher, was scheduled to teach me but now hasn’t got the time. So now I’m going to Beautiful County Community College. I have to call the college on Tuesday to arrange the lessons, which my father has agreed to pay for entirely. Anyway, back to today. This teacher told us of how, once at a party, the principal’s daughter became incredibly drunk (I suppose that I should use the terminology “intoxicated”) and fell unconscious. This substitute of ours took pictures of the unconscious girl, pictures which, incidentally, would end up on the principal’s desk. He told us to keep that to ourselves. He also told us of his days as a hippie, sporadically traveling to and living in for extemporaneous time periods places from Lobster State to Deep South State to Movie State. He came back to the East Coast, and, I was amazed, to Native State, to finish college. I was amazed that he stopped going to different parts of the country to go to college, and that he chose to come back here, to Native State, one of the most boring states in the Union. I’d rather even live in Southern State and Decaying State than in Native State. Decaying State has Independence City, and, of course, Southern State has [a number of things that can’t be mentioned without betraying the pseudonym]. There has been much speculation that the United States may now invade Syria. It is my opinion that such an invasion would be completely unnecessary and would only serve to wreak complete havoc on Middle Eastern and possibly even global stability. Many people believe (and I am one of them) that if we continue our present course as conquerors that many nations will rise up against us. Although we laugh at countries like France and Germany when they are by themselves, if they were all to unite against American imperialism, we could be in for some major trouble. Every civilization that has done what we are now doing has collapsed. The Roman Empire, ruler of Europe, degenerated into chaos. The Bourbon reign of Imperial France under the Bourbons was overthrown. Napoleonic France, after the devastating Napoleonic Wars, was destroyed. This led to the eventual establishment of the modern, docile Republique Francaise. Imperial Russia fell with the tragic 1917 Revolution. The German and Austrian, as well as the Ottoman empires, all fell. The USSR, Nazi Germany, East Germany, Yugoslavia and the former communist governments of Romania, Bulgaria, and Czechoslovakia (now the Czech Republic and Slovakia from Czechoslovakia), not to mention that of Poland, fell. The one thing that they had in common: they all tried to dominate. Countries like Poland, Bulgaria, and Romania, who kept this domination within their borders, lost their governments, although their nations remained intact. Nations like Rome and the USSR, however, who tried to push domination into foreign countries (Rome; England, Egypt, France, etc/USSR; Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Kazakhstan, Afghanistan, etc.) eventually crumbled completely, their borders redrawn. Aria would be a more recent example, whose July 2, 2002 Revolution would overthrow their Czar and entire Imperial government. Aria thrashed in its death throes for about a month, though, not completely collapsing until about August 25, 2002. That wiped out one of the greatest and most accomplished civilizations in the world, great and accomplished in that Aria had been a child nation, not an adult one, as most are. Aria, although it mainly kept its dominance to Aria itself, did lose its extensive borders, which covered more than two million square miles. Anyway, third mod was awesome. During lunch (or “brunch,” as it was called today), a large African-American boy jumped onto one of the tables to strip. An administrator quickly yelled at him, “Off of the table!” She then smiled and said, “On the chair.” The crowd hooted with delight, cheered, and laughed as the boy got up onto the table and danced, his jellyrolls bouncing. The crowd laughed hysterically. In fourth mod we listened to the radio and worked on our atom newspaper projects, but we basically had it made. I loved school today. Our Chemistry teacher told us a joke today that went like, “You know that America is going down the tubes when the best rapper is white, the best golfer is black, the tallest guy in the NBA is Chinese, the French are calling us arrogant, Switzerland holds the American Cup, and the three most powerful guys in America are named Bush, Colin, and Dick.” I thought that this was pretty funny, although, much to my amusement, I didn’t get the Bush part of the joke until about an hour later. And to think, I had been about to ask my teacher! It certainly is a good thing that I forgot. I asked Stoner Boy how much money it would take him to get a crewcut, or, in other words, to shave his head, He said that he just wouldn’t do it. This boy’s hair is incredibly long (probably down to his elbows if you stretch it out) and monstrously curly, creating a giant afro. He said that he’d do it for one million dollars. After school I bid Lacrosse Boy have a nice weekend and I went home. Grand Pa arrived shortly thereafter. I have (much to my own dismay, although that compared to what Jesus did it’s a small sacrifice) given up listening music until Sunday. Powell, Thomas, Mom, and the others left for Hick State around the same time that Grand Pa and I left for my grandparents’ house. Tomorrow we are scheduled to go out to dinner with Cool Cousin. And also, Literary Cousin, Aunt Crazy, and Uncle Responsible should be there.

April 19, 2003

We have to leave within an hour or so. I’m still not sure where we’ll going, although I believe that we’ll be eating crabs. I especially can’t wait to meet with Cool Cousin again, who I haven’t seen for some time. None of my recent e-mails have been answered and I soon discovered that I was not alone. When I sent an e-mail to her, I believe on Friday, a message on my screen said that Cool Cousin’s e-mail storage space was 100% full. So she hasn’t been answering any of her e-mails. This means that I will have so much to tell!

April 20, 2003

It’s very early in the morning. It’s around three o’clock. And it’s now officially Easter Sunday. I want to pray; I am, if truth be told, quite eager to do so. Today, April 20th, is a day of contrasts. The acts of God made evident on this day transcend centuries with their glory. As they should. The actions of some humans on this day, though, transcend years with their horror. Jesus Christ rose from the dead this day, after being crucified by the Romans. He is truly our hero, that He died so horribly to save and spare us. Also today is Hitler’s birthday. Adolph Hitler would murder about twelve million people. Also today, two boys at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado, massacred some twelve people. Oddly enough, as today is Easter, two of the girls that were murdered were asked if they believed in God. When they said yes, they were executed. I thank God for His Sacrifice on this day, which brings happiness on what I consider (April 20th) to be a usually somber and sorrowful occasion. I love God and Jesus Christ. My gratitude extends beyond words. Thank God. Thank Jesus Christ.

April 22, 2003

Okay, I’ll admit it, because there’s no way around it. Today and yesterday just sucked. They were slightly reminiscent of my first miserable weeks (months, really) at Beautiful Town Middle School. I do, of course, realize that I’ve allowed a few small events to move my emotions. For example, I walked into Algebra late today from seeing my stock broker (more on that later), and White Trash Boy, a trashy, what most would call “sleazy” boy, said something like, “Oh, no.” My entire day was ruined instantly. For the whole day, I felt terrible. This boy who brags about being “dark” all year round (red, actually, he is red-skinned all the time; one of the many marks of the poor) had ruined my day. At the moment, I couldn’t think of anything to say. However, even if I could have, I probably wouldn’t have. It amazes me that I’m less frightened of a physical confrontation with my father than with this immensely stupid oaf. It’s the law of the jungle. The large and physically strong rule. Well, I won’t take that anymore. I am an American citizen. I live in the United States of America, and I refuse to sacrifice my freedom of speech in this country. I am afraid, but it makes me angry. Why should I have to be? There is no Secret Police, there is no KGB here. And I’m letting a few stupid people have an edge over me because of size? No. Not here. On top of that, I would be devastated if I had to go through another Dirty Town. Or another sixth grade. Dirty County holds innumerable, terrible memories. It’s a trash heap, it’s a cesspool of poverty and destruction of innocence and rape of childhood.

April 23, 2003

A year ago today what we called (or what I called) Our Family Branch Dowager Royalty overwhelmingly defeated a measure that would have allowed for a new Capitol Building to be constructed in the Imperial District of Philadelphia. Then, though, the Neighbors Branch approved the same measure. This didn’t cause any conflict between the two branches, unlike other issues that would come up even after the Revolution. The measure would ultimately be defeated anyway. In just ten days (about), the country had something more pressing to worry about. The anniversary of May 1st is rapidly approaching. I still find it interesting that the core of this event (so monumental in Arian history), the Rebel and Castalian attacks on Olympia, Anne’s Town Military Base, San Antonio, Santa Abuela Dominica Lucia, and Nikolai Palace in Gudalajara, as well as the attempted attack in Athens, never actually took place. It is now the reaction that ensued when this false information was delivered, that chaos, that stands out more distinctly in the minds of we who know the truth. When we delivered the news (meant to boost the economy), things here spiraled out of control. The majority of our large cities were evacuated. This included the entire region’s two super cities, San Francisco and Philadelphia. As a result, almost the entire population of this Cluster fled across the border into what I told them was safety; the collapsed nation of Beryllium. Even the Atrician rulers crossed the border. Beryllium had collapsed some time back. It had gained its independence in the aftermath of the Gorgan Revolution. Unlike Gorgan, however, Beryllium would not survive. Beryllium, through collapse, came to us. Gorgan submitted to our rule due to economic purposes. We annexed both just about an hour before “news” of the “attacks” was released. People fled to Beryllium in particular, I suppose because it had been a separate nation such a short time ago, and probably wouldn’t be targeted. The sudden surge of panic was incredible. May 1st was one of economic heights. Just two months later, two months and one day later, the Revolution came crashing down on our precious Empire. Our own country’s more dramatic collapse came on August 24, 2002. Today was a good day. I just thought about all of the social cliques and divisions and the etiquette. In a glorious moment of realization I suddenly understood that all of their name-calling and teasing was all just a bunch of thoughts. It occurred to me finally, that what they said didn’t matter. It’s all just the opinions of a bunch of ignorant children. I thought, “It’s just what they think.” And I also thought, “It doesn’t matter what they think, because it’s all just their opinions.” And what does that matter? What can that do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, if you don’t let it. With this attitude (and a little bit of prayer) I had a much better day than my previous two. I am using my friend’s pen. I accidentally left mine in Spanish (like so many other things) class. I am now angry, because that’s a nice pen, and it’s just now occurring to me that someone might take it. I’ll have to get there early in the morning to retrieve it. I hate to think of someone taking something I’ve had in my house, that I’ve used, that I’ve touched. It infuriates me, and I feel violated. It’s as if they’ve stolen a little piece of my home. My stupid computer is slow. The printer will not print, no matter how I appease it. It’s been on the same screen for nearly an hour now. I have Algebra homework that I must do, so I’ll get to it. We presented our atom newspapers today in Chemistry. My personal presentation got many laughs. I did an ad about romance. It’s for those who can’t find romance in the traditional sense. Anyway, I’ll go into it later. I have homework to do.

April 24, 2003

I have returned my friend’s pen to her. One year ago today, as part of the Czar’s overhaul of the Imperial government, a new department was created. It was the National General Organization Department, and was to make sure that all other Departments, all royal functions, in fact, everything to do with the Imperial (I should now say Arian) government ran smoothly. Like many Arian outlets, it would eventually fail and bring blow after blow slamming down on our huge country. I suppose that I should say our doomed country. This Department (NGOD (I don’t think that anyone in Aria ever actually used the abbreviation “NGOD” to describe said department)) had its Base 1 at the White House and Base 2 at Border House Military Base, San Diego, Atricia-Andrea. Border House sat on the border of two provinces, hence, “Border House.” I can remember that it was an immensely important government building. Aside from Base 2 of the NGOD, it also housed the IBI, the National Defense Department, the National Military Organization Department, and probably numerous other government institutions, too. Oh, yes, Border House was the Imperial prison. It was barely ever used, and most people mistake it with the Imperial Chain Court Islands, where trials (officially) actually took place. An Atrician baron administered the department alongside the Czarevitch Crown Prince. I had a good day today, although this evening I fought with my friend Gothic Girl and my mother. We’ll all get over our separate conflicts. I’m going to bed now. Tomorrow is Friday, thank God.

April 25, 2003

The news of what happened yesterday seems to have taken the entire globe into a frenzied storm. Yesterday, in Pyongyang, North Korea, the North Korean representative in the recently trilateral talks between China, the United States, and North Korea, pulled the American representative aside at a formal gathering and told him that North Korea has at least one nuclear weapon. He then said, “Now what are you going to do about it?” Given the usual diplomatic rhetoric that most nations spew out, this is one of the most severe threats that I have ever learned of.

April 26, 2002

It is now Saturday, April 26, 2003, although just barely; it’s only been a few minutes. Last Friday was an excellent day as was this (well, I suppose I should say “yesterday”) one. Some incredible social shift may be taking place right in our midst. Mean Girl, the girl whom I dislike and who was so cruel to me, must find herself in a very precarious position this morning (if she’s awake, in which case she would, but if not, well, then she’d just be unconscious). He social position may possibly have started its decline. Numerous people (including myself) have spoken out against her. Several popular boys and girls are among these people. There is still a strong fear of her, and her name is often whispered, but the thoughts are still leaving people’s heads and being voiced, regardless of the secrecy around these transactions [probably meant to say “exchanges”]. I sensed a possible divide between Mean Girl and Ugly Girl when Ugly Girl began to be nice to Old-Looking Girl, a girl that the two publicly disliked, and whom Mean Girl still does. Ugly Girl then cut Mean Girl off in mid-sentence, boldly and viciously told her to shut up, and continued to talk to myself, another boy, and some other people. Mean Girl looked down at the ground and looked highly discouraged. Then tough Mean Girl, who constantly brags and boasts about how physically capable she is and who tries (unsuccessfully) to strut her dominance, turned away. When Mean Girl left the room, I asked Ugly Girl, “Are you and Mean Girl still tight?” Ugly Girl said, “I don’t know.” The teacher then bade us be silent, so I passed Ugly Girl a note inquiring of the situation that was unfolding. Ugly Girl’s answer was all the response that I needed for confirmation. If Ugly Girl had turned on her Mean Girl was in for trouble. This would, by the way, explain why their CD is currently on hold. What could possibly happen is very seldom attempted and almost never achieved: a populace of students could unite in opinion to throw off one of their highest clique leaders. I don’t know how she’s remained at what I would call an elevated high school social state for so long; almost everyone obviously hates her, and everyone I’ve talked to about this is glad that it’s happening. We went out to dinner “last” night. As you may already know, Dr. Vocal Coach officially can’t be my vocal teacher. Beautiful County Community College isn’t offering courses, but I got lucky and got into touch with a vocal coach of a friend of mine, who has time slots available. She’s also less economically demanding than either Beautiful County Community College or Dr. Vocal Coach; she only charges $17.50 a lesson, or $70.00 a month. I don’t have to pay any money at all for this, thanks to my rather generous father. All of this makes me so happy.

Around 11:22p.m.
I’ve been doing some reading about World War II. It makes me so sad. So much happened, too, so many brutalities. It was during this war that attacks on millions of civilians became acceptable to a conservative world. I think that the United States demonstrated this with the dropping of two atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The almost complete annihilation of Hamburg also shows this. The German invasion of the USSR and the Germans’ conduct in Leningrad are perfect examples as well. I am terrified that attacks on civilians have become so acceptable that we could be publicly attacked by another nation, namely North Korea. I’m going to go downstairs and watch Saturday Night Live.

April 27, 2003

I spoke with my Uncle Liar earlier today. I told him that I had completed my first song. He said that that was great. When I told him that I was having some serious trouble coming up with a suitable melody, he said that we could choose from different options in the studio. I then introduced him to the second song I’ve been working on. I’ve crafted it, you see. I mean for it to be a type of rock song. According to Uncle Liar, the technique worked. He was absolutely in awe when I read him the song. I was delighted with his (I must admit) unexpected reaction. The song greatly pleases me. Uncle Liar was moved enough to tell me that he thought this demo would be “very successful.” I asked him if he meant that he thought it would be successful with the record companies. He told me not to worry about impressing the major labels. One thing that I was doing he was able to read like a book. He said that I was trying to project myself well. He was absolutely right. The thought of what my own image is hasn’t been far from my mind since all of this began, and today only enhanced the feeling. It is a rather fun thought to toy with. Especially now that I have a chance, now that I have a shot at it. I have my first vocal lesson on Tuesday.


April 30, 2003

Once again, another vocal lesson has been postponed. The teacher is taking a three-week trip to Europe. While there she will visit her niece at an air base in Germany and go to her husband’s family reunion in Luxembourg. Speaking of foreign countries, something very optimistic is going on in Israel. In the Palestinian territories, Mahmoud Abbas has become the first Palestinian premier, ascending to that office to counter the power of suspected pro-terrorism leader Yaseer Arafat. Yaseer is suspected of ties with Hamas and Islamic Jihad, two of the world’s more violent terrorist organizations. They have executed many attacks in particular in the Israeli cities of Netanya and Tel Aviv.