Thursday, Jan. 02, 2003 || 2:32 p.m.

The shortest days are not Sundays, but days where you are recovering and reflecting. That has been the past few days for me. I have done very little to nothing. There just isn't enogh time in one day to do all your thinking. I don't know how I feel about that if I feel anything at all. I'm just floating.

New Year's Eve was the usually drunken strip night. I celebrated it with Wes and it was lovely. I saw people from my college and high school. Wes and I both looked good and we felt alright too. I think the best part of the whole night was eating a *delicious* preztel from the New York, New York hotel. I think I had an orgasim eating it while pushing through the crowds. Monica, being drunk and sloppy, was the next best thing. It could be the most entertaining thing to watch. Just put Monica in a room with not even a half bottle of vodka and 20 minutes later you have your entertainment for the evening. After what should have been a quick late night breakfast at Hamburger Marys, we traveled home. I left Wes tired, and with a flask half full of vodka, and fell into bed. I woke up around noon to start my day of nothingness.

I felt more like an observer then participater that night. Yeah I didn't my share of celebrating the new year, but I also felt seperated from it. It doesn't even feel like New Years and it didn't even feel like Christmas. Like just another holiday or day I had to celebrate.

I have been reading Nick Hornby and Irvine Welsh lately. I know, how British of me. I found this reasoning in one of Colin Firth's stories interesting. He goes, "What I reckon is: everyone's a loony. However normal anyone seems, deep down inside they're actually mental, every single person in the world and the whole of your life you have to learn not to seem mental to other people, who are all mental, too. " Now, it is simple reasoning, but I feel more fond of it now. I feel crazy or a distance towards "normal" acting people now. Normal and Henderson, NV just go hand in hand. Just going outside my door or daring to go to the strip malls makes that reasoning just prove that everyone here is truely crazy. Most people here act normal, or want to live in this normal world, and it just makes everything look fake. It is amazing how run down I feel by just going to the store and putting up with disguised crazy people. It sounds so negative, and I don't think I feel like this all the time, but it will just hit me randomly and stop me. I think this whole feeling goes back to a torn feeling of where my home is now. Maybe I just want to hate it here and feel outcasted by it so I can call San Francisco my true home. I don't know if it is possible. It is weird to say that there is a part of me here, but I think I grew out of a part that is hidden. It is the coolest part where we can act like crazies and get away with it. I think I have been doing nothing for too long. My mind is starting going off in all directions.

I do get to take puppy to the vet tomorrow. Time for his 8 week shot. Then I'm off to a dinner with old neighbors. Hmm, sounds like fun.

luv, steph

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