  In my all time list of hot hotties (props to VH1 for coining that term), Joaquin Phoenix is sandwiched in between Wes Bently and James Dean. I adore him with the fiery loyalty only a 16 year old girl can. Even though he had necrophilic fantasies and shortly after turned crazy in Quills , his comeliness cannot be disguised.
And what say I of Buffalo Soldiers …? Yes, ma’am! [I have to admit, it feels pretty nice to actually be sober, totally, for a post. Brent told Robin that apparently drinking bleach (“Dude, only like a few drops!”) will get illegal psychotropic substances out of your system, but I haven’t yet put my life on the line to see whether or not it will work. In fact, I plan on never drinking bleach. ] School starts in four weeks, which seems tragic and wrong.
If my life is measured in school years, than summer is some magical in-between where time does not exist. I wake up at random hours, I go running in the middle of the night, I take Rosie on marathon-length walks. However, there is a small part of me, the suppressed OCD part of me, which craves that structure. While I don’t miss math tests or my World History teacher, I do miss the hilarity of homeroom and the ever-exciting skipping of classes.
We’ve been talking a lot lately about what school is going to be like this year. I think the summer has changed me, as Lifetime Channel as I sound. It’s clear in my writing, I think. Maybe it’s just the pot, but I feel happier. I can’t explain why, not really. I’m just lighter. Things are less important, in a good way. I like the people I spend my days with, I like the jokes we have and the movies we watch and the music we dance to.
I like feeling like I belong to a group, albeit local. It’s nice to have that security. Affectionately… Anna, who feels necrophilia is not PC and/or sexy 
