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I went to my dad's this weekend. It was sucky because it was. It was boring. I spent all weekend fantasizing about various things, so I was distant. Well, more so than usual. And my dad asked me if I was depressed. Isn't that nice?

There's no way I'd be depressed. I'm too happy for that. I'm just going to the psychiatrist for other reasons. *glances at arm*

I was thinking about that story that I want to write now. It's non-porn, which is something completely different than what I normally write, so it might be a bit odd.

On a semi-related note, one of my friends gave me permission to write a gay porn about him, on the condition that I call him really hairy during the porn.

One of the kids I tutor told me to wear my swords and fight for Jesus.

No comment.

I saw Fighter on Friday, and my heart jumped to my throat way more than it EVER did for Drew... so... I'll have to talk about obsessive thoughts with Pedro about Fighter instead of Drew. Oh well.

A psychiatrist can't disclose any information to other patients, even if another patient was the patient's father, right?

I had to look up crap about the Scope's Trial. I have no idea why my English teacher wanted us to summarize it. I'll be creating a summary of a summary. Whatever. I'm sure she'll appreciate whatever I write in the few minutes before her class begins.