Sometimes I'm appalled at how poorly Lindsay knows me. Yesterday, she was pissed off at me for thinking I'm not going to make any friends in Boston. "Why don't you think you'll make any friends?" Because I'm a freak. Because I'm weird. Because my first two years at U of M were the loneliest of my whole life and I didn't make a single original friend (not a hold-over from high school) until junior year. For Pete's sake, I'm going to make friends, it's just going to take some fucking time! So if I want to laugh about that because I think it's funny, there's no reason she should get mad at me. Sweet merciful Magilla, this is the whole problem. This is why I can't give her up, because I know her so much better than she knows me. Aside from the fact that she's just not attracted to me, she's so certain we'd be terrible together. How can she know that when she doesn't even know me? I'm constantly surprising her, because instead of trying to know me, she's comfortable in her little world of assumptions. She's brilliant, but at the same time she's incredibly daft. So frustrating.... If I'm whining, I apologize.

I had a nice, long talk with Mom last night. She really really hates my tattoo. It's not like David's earring (and at times, earrings) or Dad's mustache, both of which she dislikes; she really hates my tattoo. "It's ugly." Mom, I think it's beautiful. I didn't get it to spite you. No, not even a little. She's the dearest woman, but she really does wish we were all more normal.

The Mountain's nowhere to be found. Steeze sez jump and he asks, "How high?" Still, at least they're having fun. Lisa, my sister, is flying in this afternoon. Washington to Detroit to Flint-Bishop. Seriously, who flies into Bishop? Only her and Scottie J, apparently.

This is one of those moments when I choose to be a small, petty man. I'm going to go be depressed about how much sex Lindsay and her boyfriend are going to have in Mexico.