June 18th, 2001.  Monday
 

 
 

    A blah blah blah blah blah.   My brain is hemorrhaging little thoughts all over the place.  A long busy day.  Went to work, went to class, went to the gym, visited Johanna at the old magazine, and went to an interview.  Busy busy.  With mixed results.  Work was, predictably, boring, as well as slightly anxiety-inducing.  My writing class went pretty well.  I read a piece I wrote late last night, on how I'm in love with the Republican party.  I'd actually been working on it and scribbling little notes on the subway for a while, so there was a little more thought in it than my usual late night scribbling.  It needs improvement, but I'm very happy with it so far.  Maybe the best thing I've done since my story on the Outlandish Lie Game.  I know it sounds like a weird thing to write about, but it all makes sense when you read it.  Basically, I'm not really in love with the GOP, but after dissecting my feelings about politics and my illogical rooting for the Republicans, I've deduced that the feeling can only be described as love.  In a lot of ways, it's an abusive kind of love.  Anyway, you can read a draft of it, if you like.  The woman sitting next to me in class was amused and outraged when she heard what my piece was about.  But I think I won her over a bit.  She asked to keep the copy I gave her.  And after I was done reading, there were even sparse applause from some people in the class.  That made me all embarrased and whatnot.  But still pleased.  One of the women, when asked for her comments, just said "I was just wondering where you could get this published."  I know I'm really tooting my own horn, but you know, it's good for the old self-esteem.  I feel good about what I wrote.

    Anyway, I'm too tired to go on. Writing, that is.
 

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