It's weird because part of me really really wants to write more but ... but the other part's just frustrated with this computer. So most times now, I just say 'fuck it' and go watch TV. I've watched more TV now than ever since I moved to Jersey almost a year ago. It feels good. Just sucks sometimes when Mark gets home. He's cool though. Last night he got home while I was just starting to watch 'Fear Factor' and some of 'Ally'. Owen came in with him. They were going over some songs. I got up to go to my room when Mark pretty much ordered me to go in his room and finish watching.

I keep having dreams of strange men. Strange perfect men. Most of the threads break far too quickly when I wake up and barely remember anything. Just knowing that I dreamt of the perfect guy. One I remembered some detail. I met him on a bus. We were sitting next to each other and he asked to borrow something and ended up walking off the bus with my backpack. Don't ask. I've tried to make sense and ... can't. So he got off the bus with my backpack and I had to stop the bus when it started driving off again and got off. I told perfect-guy that I needed my bag. But I didn't say bag. I said 'key'. I told him if he wanted, I could go to his house to see if the key works and then leave. I'm still trying to figure all that out.

We ended up walking along this little bridge. I think we were in Central Park. We talked about all sorts of things. We got to his house. Great green lawn, gates, mansion. Our clothes had changed. Before, he was wearing a suit and I was wearing one of my usual baseball-type long sleeve jerseys and jeans. Now he was in shorts, a tee and I ... well I was wearing just a different color jersey. So, his clothes changed. We walked on the lawn and this golden retriever ran up to me and perfect-guy. It was his dog (I ... love guys with dogs). Then his ... brother ran up to us. Around the same age as us. Incredible smile and piercing blue eyes. I found my chest heaving as I stared at him and perfect-guy's voice started fading and ... I woke up.

I said some detail because the dream stretched on forever before that part. It seemed as if everyone I know was making a cameo. The only other things I remember are ... crawling through an air vent and confetti, a lot of confetti.

It feels so good to write right now. Really. I've missed it. It's just ... this laptop makes it a hassle. Plus, I miss the format I used in my journal. I wasn't going to write at all until I got it off my harddrive, but I can't. I just wished I backed up more often. The back-up I have on Zip disk is a couple month behind.

Lots of things are going to change when I get a new laptop. Backing up for one. And a hell of a lot more care. I'm not caring it anywhere unless I have a proper laptop bag or at least a sleeve. I'll turn it off when I'm going to sleep (which will be hard since I liked leaving it on to play my 'Sleep' MP3 playlist). I keep humming tunes I really miss listening to. Mazzy Star ... I miss Mazzy Star so much. I'll have to buy the CDs.

Besides watching more TV and playing around with the little cooking skills I actually have, work's been taking up pretty much the rest of my time. Everything takes twice as long on this Sony Vaio I'm using. I'm almost done with thie hair thing. About frickin time! We hit a snag today though. Some files I copied on Zip yesterday were corrupted so it set us back and pissed me off. I spent like 40 minutes in Keri's evil art department. They hate me. They do. They must. They make me feel like total shit whenever I go there. Every time I go there, I feel like a fraud. Like I'm not a designer at all and I have no purpose even being in the same room with them. Every single time. Only the first couple times I went up there, I felt like "Wow! This is so cool!" Now, I just feel cold eyes gazing up from their Macs. This cold-"Die outsider scum! Die!"-kind of stare. don't like it. I would joke around with Keri or others at the office that the art department hates me ... but I really don't like it. It makes me doubt myself as a designer. In fact, I really don't feel like one at all after typing that. There's one girl there who talks to me. She's really cool. I sometimes picture the rest of the department making her walk on hot coal to prove her loyalty after they see her talking to me.