holes in my sweater

Tuesday, February 19th, 2002

Everytime I come home, it feels less and less like I belong here. This is problematic, as I have never felt that I really belonged in res. Where, then, do I belong?

In any event, I'm at home now, in Mississauga, and it's Tuesday. I'm going home Sunday (I think I am, anyway), I'm going to my parents' office to make some money tomorrow, I'm thinking of playing with Jessa Friday and seeing Lauren's play that night, and I still have to do a 1500 word essay on Neitzsche's Beyond Good and Evil, which I have not yet read. Bummer.

Also, I came home to find that William, my fish, had died. My dad had bought me two new fish, and the first morning I was home, one of them died. I was going to call them Fred and George, but now I can't. I've named the surviving fish Edmund. I don't know why.

It's cold in this basement. I'm leaving.