November 22, 2002

Nemo--

I really hate science. Just thought I'd tell you that. Well, TGIF. This weekend's going to be interesting. I'm gonna take my griver's test tomorrow. Eeep! I'm scared. I failed it once already, don't wanna go through THAT again.

I've got to get working on Raissa and Meredith again. And I need to type stuff for Scholastic.

It's amazing how real books are! They become so real... that's funny, I tried to write "real" and I wrote "read"... universal truth or Freudian slip?

Boy if you could let others in your head, I could charge money. But my books are reality to me!

Can you get to my fields? I can't, tonight. Tomorrow, maybe. Wandering far afield physically lets my mind wander. But the woods always seem so finite. I want to wander on, indefinitely, through multiplying realms of beauty and mystery and painful joy. It's wonderful, like the endless winter snowscape with pink night skies and green-shadow-making moonlight on pines. It's unbelievable.

I used to think everyone was so earth-bound because they spoke of such everyday things all the time, until I realized that I do it too. So now I think someone may have uncharted depth of beauty and poetry. But uncharted regions are dangerous--"Here Be Dragons!" I've never had my theory proved one way or the other. Sometimes I think everyone's like me, and sometimes I think I'm alone.

Well, I've got Nemo to talk to... ha ha.