I have a really bad mouth and I didn't realize it until I read one of my plays in front of my creative writing class and there were so many "naughty words" in my script when everyone else in the class had managed to evade slang. It's my dad's fault. His favorite word is fuck. And now I'm passing the torch by rubbing off on the three year old who will no doubt stun all of her elementary school teachers with her wealth of inappropriate vocabulary words. She's such a righteous baby. She only wears underwear and she likes to dance in front of a mirror (le tigre is her favorite band) and she kisses random little boys and girls and says 'shit' and 'goddamnit' whenever she drops something. I'm so proud. I wanna take her with me when I move out so I can continue molding her into the perfect mini-me.

A girl in my creative writing class freaked when I used the word "pubes" in something that I wrote (I'm all about word choice and pubes was essential in creating the correct feel for the statement, believe me). She started bitching about how I needed to be censored and whatever the fuck else because I apparently offended her. But everybody knew that it was bullshit and that she just doesn't like me because I'm not a fashion diva and because I am an unashamed lesbian and probably because the teacher loves me, not her. But it didn't really piss me off because she falls into the vast category of folk that I just don't give a fuck about. But our student teacher came up to me today and told me that he hoped I wouldn't let her comment effect what I wrote. I told him it wouldn't, that I wasn't upset and then he said in his serious, deep voice, "Believe me, it's been taken care of." What the fuck? Did ya take her out? Just the way he said it was really kind of funny. Watch what you say or Mr. M will have you physically liquidated. Little cunt.

Checked my email today and had not one, not two, but three messages. I felt wanted for about thirty seconds and then the magic faded.

I also read all of my friends' diaries because, as I mentioned before, this has become a sort of fad between us all. And I just want to say that you girls aren't very funny. So serious, so distraught. Lighten the fuck up.

Everybody was talking about their diaries during lunch today and throwing out their names and everything. And Bridget was sitting with us at the time and I started to get a little afraid that she might find mine and read all the creepy, obsessive stuff that I've written about her. But then while I was spacing out during my Shakespeare class, I figured it wouldn't be that huge of deal. I mean she'd read the creepy stuff, maybe feel a little uncomfortable and then get to the part where I say that I'd really never want to be with her because she's just not fucked up enough for me, nor is she really intimidating-butch enough for me. So then she'd just realize that it was all harmless, and I'm not the scary lesbian out to trap her. And what the hell, I've got two and a half months and then I'll never see her again (oh, the beauty of graduation). What's to lose?

So I was checking out Bee Quiet's site the other day (she's a poet, fucking awesome, check her out, www.beequiet.com) and I found this essay that was essentially about the american lesbian perception of butch women versus the european perception of butch women. Incredibly interesting, particularly if you're into butch girls (in an american sense) because there are a lot of really hot pictures.

I've come to terms with the fact that I am completely lesbian starved. There are no girls here for me. None of them are right. They're all so . . . I can't even say what the fuck they are because I don't know WHERE they are. There is a serious shortage around here. I guess they come out and then migrate south where the reception is a little warmer. Makes sense. That's what I'm doing.

Two weeks until my birthday . . .

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