I have decided to set a goal, no, a standard for myself. I am going to read 100 pages a day. This is an indefinite plan; I will do it until I can't do it. I want to keep reading. I have read a lot this summer, and I am planning on continuing. It helps me see traits of myself in others. It's a safe way to find out what I hate about myself, and also what I love.

I'm reading fluff right now, though, but it's still reading. I'm reading Space by James A. Michener. It's cool, easy reading. I've read it before, in Middle School, and I liked it then.

My brother is an asshole, but I love him. My mother is overly dramatic, but I love her. My father is sensible, but removed, and I love him. Scotty is great, no complaints, he's the best thing ever. I just wonder about myself sometimes. Do I like myself? I know I love myself, and sometimes I'm conceited, but do I like myself? Am I comfortable? And I don't know if I can answer honestly. Actually I like myself, I know I'm great, I just wish someone else would notice every once in a while. Is that fucked up to say? It's sort of true. But it's also sort of a lie too. I don't know about me. I try pretty hard not to lie to myself.

I want to be seen, but I want to be ignored. Especially in Berkeley and San Francisco. I don't want any of my old aquaintances to see me, but I want to be seen and idolized by all the people I will never know. It's a really egotistical dream and desire, but I can't help it. I want to be invisible and glowing. Too 'comic book' for me, but still true, sort of.

Good afternoon. I'm rambling a bunch of bullshit, so I'll go sit by the phone and wait to find out if I got this house. Please...