19 February 1999 ~ No one's picking up the phone...

I went to sleep at 2 in the morning last night. I just had to finish my Valentine's Day love letter to Peter -- okay, so I'm a few days late... So sue me. I haven't gotten a love letter from him in years. However, I simply could not sleep knowing I'd wake up staring into the face of an ominous computer begging me to pay attention to it...

Instead, I woke up this morning at 7 AM to the sound of my phone ringing. I'd been having this warm delicious dream about a very attractive boy, and had no intention of getting up for the alarm, my class, or anything until I'd had my way with dream-boy. But the phone rang, and, in my sleep, I decided it was worth it to wake up, as it might be an even warmer and more delicious boy on the other line... I stumbled across the room to get it, tripping over some books and my Lynch videos, and smushing the love letter from the night before, and muttered sleepily, "hello?"

"Hi, this is Damien, I need your opinion."
"Daaaaaaamieeeeen... WHAT?"
"Well, I've already missed our religion class three times, and I REALLY don't feel good this morning, and I was just wondering if you thought I should go anyway... They give you five days before they drop your grade, right?"
"Enh?"
"Did I wake you up?"
FINALLY, the boy gets it... "YES!"
"Oh. Sorry. So do you think I should go?"
"Yeah, prolly. They start dropping grades after three; it's a school policy because they realized a lot of the kids here are smart enough to read that damn book for themselves and never have to bother with lectures."
"Oh. So should I go?"
"Let's put it this way, Damien; they're required to call your room and go looking for you if you miss four consecutive classes; that way, they'll know you aren't hanging yourself in your bedroom. That's why they started taking attendance in the first place."
"Really? Wow, someone KILLED themselves here?"
"Yeah. Some freaky depressed artist."
"What freaky depressed artist?"
"Damien, this is a liberal arts school - everyone is a freaky depressed artist. And it was years ago."
"Really? Then how do you know about it? And do you think I should go to class?"

It was endless. ENDLESS. Now, Damien may be a warm delicious boy, but at 7 in the morning, there are VERY few people who are THAT warm and delicious, particularly if they're calling to ask you stupid-assed questions about whether or not to go to class.

As I hung up the phone and began to dress for class, I thought about the warm delicious dream-boy... I looked at the clock. I groaned. I vowed never to answer the phone again. I began planning a homicide.

Damien was in class today. I didn't even acknowledge him. He stole my dream-boy. Figures, doesn't it? The cute ones from Oklahoma always seem to grab onto my men...

As a side note to this entry, I am leaving for El Paso, TX, at 4 this afternoon, and will be back late Sunday night -- so if you're looking for me, I'll be back soon enough.

I am SO tired....

Love,
Helena*

"So tired that I couldn't even sleep..." --Soul Asylum, "Runaway Train."

"Aaaah'm in a KILLIN' mood!" --Marcello Santos, "Wild At Heart."