So I had my first debate dream last night, which is probably a watershed but I don’t want to think about it. It was more of a nightmare, actually — my partner had these secret religious affiliations with nuclear companies and if they asked us about it cross-examination we were going to be screwed, so I was desperately trying to head off those questions by babbling about how business confidence was on the brink. This can’t be healthy at all.

This is fascinating in an organic way. Another clickable thing is here (Howard Dean’s velociraptor screech).

There was a debate tournament Friday and Saturday, which is why I am now sitting around listlessly and not doing Calculus. Who needs mathematics, anyway? I remember enjoying these elegant, numerical things, back when they didn’t have consequences. Anyway, debate tournament: my partner and I broke into quarters and then were consummately slaughtered. All good.

I’m planning to add a patriotism advantage to our affirmative plan. Something along the lines of, it is your patriotic duty to protect your country by regulating against invasive species. Uncle Sam wants you to vote affirmative!

The fight with the parental units more or less faded out. My mom bought a self-help book today about handling teenagers. It is full of asinine advice about keeping your teenager off of drugs and boys. Ha! My psyche is too complex to be fathomed.

Still fighting with the parental units. This one’s pretty epic. Naturally the forces of good are on my side. On the other hand, the constant stress is making me want to vomit and my parents keep doing things like not letting me sleep in the name of adjusting my schedule and meeting with my teachers without telling me about it. I’m feeling Wronged and Victimized, if you can’t tell.

I fight with my parents too much. It’s probably inevitable, what with my being right all the time. Occasionally, stupidly, I find myself using debate jargon. You dropped my argument on…

I still don’t know “what I’m going to be when I grow up.” At this point I’m resorting to process of elimination (not a mathematician because not Asian, not an artist because want to make money, not a programmer because incompetent). Possibly I’ll be a lawyer, because apparently (according to Ms. Saenz, my AP Euro teacher) they start all the revolutions.

I must go to Coon-Hardy Debate Institute this summer, or else I will die a horrible gasping talentless death. That is a promising first sentence; I hope I can keep it up. Yes, Coon-Hardy is the solution, the refill, the shot of adrenaline to my empty & careless existance. Only $3500, plus $50-100 for photocopies!

Opera is the other thing right now. It’s a surprisingly effective internet browser, obscenely customizable, and comes in various colors i.e. crimson. (I am trying and failing to write in a more engaging, fluid style.)

Frontage Roads (my school’s literary magazine and my baby) needs a website and a cover, both of which are my responsibility/fault. So I’ll be doing that at some point soon. The staff and I did a ropes course the other day, for team-building purposes (ha!) and also because it was free. I am now convinced that I am a Natural Leader. If I can lead people through a rope spiderweb, I can lead this country into happy open-minded open-mouthed futuristic neon sunshine!

This is terminally stupid. Bush intends to waste another $1.5 billion on “promoting marriage,” yay Christian right.

I wish I could be witty/enraged consistently enough to write more entries. That would be good.

Some public announcements: first off, my friends are not substance abusers. This may not be immediately apparent from the comments at this place, but really (to my knowledge) no one I know does . Not many . Not many bad . Also, I will be writing more as I find time. Most of this writing will be stupid raving about debate, which I am getting increasingly excited about.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern: best play ever. I love it, I love it. There’s also a brilliant movie, which isn’t out on DVD, which proves there is no God or else he’s lame. Mormons also conclusively disprove God. I don’t respect Mormons at all. You can’t Americanize Jesus!

I think the key to my new policy of maximum writage is to keep typing until sentences appear magically out of the ether. I wish I were more mysterious. I wish I had better hair.

Sweet! We’re back online. Sorry about the downtime — apparently I needed to give them money.