--Margaret Atwood

My internal clock has been acting strange over the past few days. I've been going to sleep around 11 PM, and getting up around 7. Weird.

Naturally, I don't expect it to last. Nor can I exactly afford it at this point, what with all I have to do, and all of my routines geared towards being up late at night... including the journal routine, which explains why this entry is a bit late. I started writing something last night, but was too tired to manage it.

My mother suggested that my brother could bring it to me instead, as he was there at the time, and was headed my way anyway. Okay.

So he did. He also brought along a care package with food. Lots of it. I've got bread now, and corn flakes, and even some cashews. So I am a happy camper, on the whole.

The professor did offer me a one-week extension, and I think I'm going to take him up on it. I'd rather get it out of the way this week... but I'd really rather get it right. Especially as I'm headed for a "B" in this class, as matters stand.

I still can't believe that.

You have to understand; this is an English class. I have never gotten anything less than an "A" in an English class. I'd hate to blow that now. It's not really my GPA I'm concerned about; it's just that I'm a perfectionist, and I know I should be capable of maintaining that streak, and it doesn't make me feel too good to know that I'm slipping.

My second short essay came back with a B+, you see. And, unlike last time, when, looking back on the paper, I agreed with his assessment of it, I'm not utterly convinced this time. I have a feeling that he's comparing the essays with his conception of what he wanted... which is fine, except that what he wanted wasn't exactly made clear in the instructions. So 'twould seem that I was concise in all the wrong places. Perhaps. Maybe I just messed up; I'm still thinking over his comments.

Anyway, the long essay had better be perfect, I figure, if I want to be able to redeem myself. So today I finally get to hit the library, and I think I'm going to take the extra week.

Still, while I certainly don't mean to condone or justify a mass murder, I can't say I don't think I understand what drove the killers to do so. And it's driving me to distraction that the public at large, rather than learning anything from this, is busily assuring themselves that they can't be part of the problem, and that the two kids who did this had to have been evil Goth computer-game-playing trenchcoat-wearing diary-keeping neo-Nazi spawn from Hell. Or something like that.

The solution? Be suspicious of anybody with any of the above traits, and make it clear to them that they'd better not try to pull anything. Yeah. That'll do it.

Sigh.

Anyway, in the middle of all this, the following showed up on rec.humor.funny. A warning: Do not click on this link unless you have a really warped sense of humor. I mean it.

For my part... well, after I stopped laughing, it became the first thing I've put on my refrigerator in many a moon.

For that matter, my sister wrote this poem last year, and I am shocked -- shocked! -- that KidStuff hasn't taken it down. Why, it just might give people ideas!

(Who knows? Perhaps this very poem inspired the whole campaign? Is the FBI investigating my sister as I type this? She says so, but somehow I have my doubts...)