And then I don't feel so bad?

It's days like this that I'm ultimately thankful that I do not have the power to incinerate with a glance.

Oh, I would if I could. The entire theatre would be gone, as well as several students; my chemistry textbook would certainly not survive the heat, and the world might also go down in flames.

Crap ball change. I left my backpack in the cafeteria. I hope some thugly lowlife hasn't made off with it. Oh well. Have fun with my chemistry textbook, thugly lowlife, but the bookstore won't give you beans for it.

So then I might regret burning the earth. Well, I'd mostly regret it.

So I had a bad day. That's what that comes down to. I engaged in petty putainery. I did not stifle my urge to correct stupid people, even though I knew it would be tactless and make them feel more stupid. Rather, I embraced the urge. I went with it. I was a horrible person.

I had a mini-breakdown; I found out later that one of my classmates had a similar one. I wish we'd had ours together. It might have saved time.

When the dog bites, when the bee stings, Rodgers and Hammerstein and Julie Andrews suggest thinking of a few of my favorite things. So here goes.

The Swiss Alps.

West Side Story.

Wodehouse.

Breakfast of Champions--both Wheaties and the Kurt Vonnegut book.

Languages.

Rasmus.

Making fun of mullets.

Making fun of millet.

Making fun of mittens.

Making fun of non-human-hair weave.

DICK VAN DYKE.

Jane Austen.

Kiwi.

Yes. Have no fear--I would spare the earth for kiwi, the Alps and Jeeves and Wooster.