  I really need to stop eating. I can't imagine hitting that one mark that I'd promised myself I'd never do, so I'll seriously have to start rationing and eat three meals a day: BREAKFAST: a banana, maybe. Or yogurt. LUNCH: peanut butter and jelly, and crackers if I'm going to splurge DINNER: I can't really control this, but I'll cut down on the rice, half a bowl. Perhaps the key is eating only a little in between. Don't dwell on this too much. Sometimes I hear other people talk about weight and I think they're insane, so I assume you must think I'm crazy too. It's just that studying's over and I'm still eating and eating and eating. It's a bad habit. I should be playing piano right now, but I don't feel like it.
I just got out of the shower and nothing feels like moving right now, not even the fingers that are doing the typing. I just feel like such a pig, and I didn't even have that much today. Argh. Maybe it was the Cinnamon Toast Crunch last night. I guess I'm in a faintly negative mood. I went to school feeling grubby, but then I realized it was really ok, but the damage was done by then. The seniors put on their caps and gowns for the front page picture today, and it was sad: once they all left for the picture, it was only Dorothy and me left in the back row. I forgot to bring a water bottle today, which set me off for some reason. I thought of how many times I've been spited in recent history after I showered.
I finished the column, but I'm not proud of it. I lost momentum. There's a week until the license and 18 days of school left. On Saturday I thought of how neat it would be if we could just wander around Santa Barbara. It's that wonderful town-by-the-sea feeling. I think of pastels and old wood when I imagine it. So that makes three places I want to visit after school's out and before Harvard. No, four. Santa Barbara, Ventura, Malibu and Disneyland. We're starting mink dissection tomorrow.
I have to find an old shirt. I wonder if Mom's really going to take me shopping tomorrow or if she's going to tell me tomorrow afternoon that she has to pick up Austin and that it won't work, so I'll end up going to Los Robles a sullen, spoiled kid. But I got mad at her for picking me up late today. Who wouldn't, when school lets out at 2:45 and she comes at 2:58?
So I couldn't really broach the topic. Whatever, I don't really need to go, but it would be nice to. My contacts are getting dry. I hate off-season tennis. Eighteen days. Oh, but more than a month until Harvard. Ack. 
