June 13, 2000 — On my need for therapy

I've been staring at the Christmas lights in my room through a hole I made in the bottom of a plastic container that a Kinder Egg toy came in. The hole is just small enough that the only light to come through is from the Christmas lights and I can't actually see anything else in my room. I wish it were this easy to eliminate all the superfluous noise in the rest of my life.

I have a massive headache right now from the humidity; this always happens when it rains. I've also been floating between being reasonably content to being annoyingly depressed throughout the evening, and I feel like such a whiny typical teenager that I want to punch myself.

Anyways. Not much happened today. Class sucked. Matt Nelson called me a bastard for doing well on the algebra test I was cramming for the period before I wrote it, having skipped the entire week of teaching; I agreed with him. Jade Lachance said I needed therapy; I agreed with her, too.

Tomorrow's my last day of classes at high school and I don't feel any different at all. I know I'm going to coast through my exams and start my summer job and feel exactly as bored and indifferent as I do now. It turns out that since my sister's dress rehearsal for dance on the night of my grad was cancelled, she could come to my grad. Except my mom made me give away the third guest pass. I suggested my sister go to grad for me and that I could stay home. My parents weren't all that amused. Fuck, I really don't want to go. I'm almost definitely going to avoid any social gatherings that may take place on the night of or in the days following grad. I just can't deal with it anymore.

My romantic image of life in Toronto is being able to spend hours riding the subway back and forth and just being alone. (All my recent attempts at talking to people have resulted in my feeling very awkward, so I'm not going to try that again for awhile. Just to explain my increasing anti-social ranting.)

The PostIt project won't be online until late tonight or early tomorrow morning. I scanned all the images, and then got side-tracked and worked on Nathan's page for awhile (it's online now, kind of, at www.anti-greg.com/natedogg), and am now wasting time writing my journal. And after this I'm going to go for a walk before I implode, so I won't be getting back to work for a little while. But I'm not planning on sleeping until I have it done.

While I was updating some of the pages on the site, it occurred to me that I hadn't put my ICQ number (9023483; you're not cool if you don't have your ICQ number memorized) on my contact page. I think I will soon, so that as more people add me to their list, I can feign ICQ popularity.

I'm going to go outside now and leave this brutal journal in its current state despite common sense pointing to a complete rewrite of it. Ah well, if I change my mind later I could just delete it anyways. I actually wish I didn't have that option, really.