i woke up, ate a banana and a piece of blueberry toast with peanut butter, broke in my new pair of running shoes, and almost passed out after hammering some hill repeats. winmill acted like he was worried. my head felt like it was swimming in DEATH.

i came home, ate some of mommy's vegetables and rice for lunch, watched the last part of yu-gi-oh, vaccuumed the living room, took a shower, got a call from j. paul about an actor's workshop he was doing which he wanted me to attend today, and watched the first half of princess mononoke before i fell asleep.

i woke up, at five o'clock in the afternoon no less, and wondered what was for dinner. a nestle 100 grand and crunch bar was what was for dinner, so far at least.

i want a fried cheese tortilla. my brother made one for me last night, and it was good.

oh yeah, this is exactly the description on the 100 grand wrapper:

Chewy Caramel $ Milk Chocolate $ Crispy Crunchies

i accidentally took seth's feminine buddy holly eye-glasses yesterday. linda's wristwatch, on the other hand, by no accident, is in my possession.

"joe, did you go to the chamber of horrors when you were in europe," john asked, about ten seconds ago. "yeah," i replied. "did you see the wax figure hanging on a hook?" he asked. he continued, "did it make you want to puke?" my brother is reading cat's cradle, apparently. i don't remember this part from the book.

it's my junior year and i have an f in biology and ms. anderson wants me to write happier horoscopes for the newspaper and i don't have my driver's license and people think i'm mean even though i have a good sense of morality and even though i like girls and even though i am good with little children and even though there is no doubt in my grandparents' mind that i do have a girlfriend.

but i ain't 'trippin, yo!

today was weird. first, i found myself as a judge at the talbot hill elementary science fair. that was weird. it was weird to grade little grade-schoolers and their wee-little presentations. little kids can be very bright. after that, i found myself at roger's house, watching a.i. artificial intelligence, and then i was in rj's kitchen. roger's dad and brothers are fucking hilarious. i was trying real hard not to laugh, but i found that i couldn't help myself.

like this: haha.

fuck writing for shitheads!

i don't mean you, dear reader. never you!

things are weird when you're sick. i stopped spitting phlegm before i came back to school today, but i was still glad it was only a half-day. like fuck! i totally love half-days!

half-days, and sleep. i totally love sleep. like fuck!

my lunch consisted of granola bars, crossaints, and mochi ice cream.

my leisurely activites consisted of reading jailbird by kurt vonnegut, and... nothing else. by the way, i finally finished bagombo snuff box last night. just so you know. i have at least ten books by vonnegut in my house right now, which all belong to either roger or brian.

my mom got my grades last night. i don't know if my dad saw them or not. he hasn't been saying much to me lately.

but everything is OKAY! let's hope i grow up into that prolific lifer i've always wanted to be!

as i write this the little clock in the lower right-hand corner of my computer reads 10:15, and my mom is stressing me to go to sleep. "you're still on the computer, joseph, you should be resting." those are her exact words. i wouldn't misquote my own mother anyway.

i have a mother who unconditionally cares for me. ME, of all people. everyday, she hears stories about the overachieving children of friends and relatives, and then she sees me. her little boy, the boy she nurtured with fairy tales and mashed-down gerber-style filipino cuisine, but grew into this heartbreaking example of wasted youth.

the doctors told her a lot of things when i was born. first, due to my premature birth, they told her i that i had a 50/50 chance of survival. my parents were so worried that i was going to die that they immediately had me baptized in the hospital. i spent the first month of my life in the intensive care unit.

my mom massaged my hands for a whole year, because the doctors told her that i wouldn't be able to use them to grab on to stuff if she didn't. now i feel that these hands have a greater purpose; whether it be penning a career-defining work, using them to direct a body of people to create the art that i so envision, or massaging the neck of someone i care for deeply.

i think i've told this story before.

i don't think i own the english language enough to articulate this feeling. "gratitude" is the wrong word. i don't owe my mother gratitude for bearing and raising me, i owe her my life. i owe her some sort of success; something greater than a giant "thank-you;" something that explains to her that this is why you spent so much time bringing up this kid.

i don't want to prove to be the talentless hack that i fear of being so much. right now, the back of my throat itches, and my retainer is squeezing my teeth like a bear trap on a human leg. my right leg is asleep.

tomorrow i will most likely not attend school. i'm calling in sick, though i know i will regret missing a day a la escuela and the speed i will lose from missing a monday track workout. i need time to recover from this physical sickness, and perhaps a little more time to decide if this mental one is really such a big deal.

my health sucks, my country is at war, and i'm 17 years old.

if you've read all the way here, to the end, who's high and who's low?

it's time to regain my strength.

goodnight world.

xoxo joseph

p.s. adrien brody won best actor at the oscars. that's sort of cool.

1 banana
7 waffles
6 inches of a submarine sandwich
2 chocolate chip cookies
1 bowl of beef soup
1 slice of whole grain toast