Thursday, 8:21 p.m.   Last Day Tomorrow the Internet is taken away. Goodbye sitDiary and your downtime and your signing-me-out-before-I'm-done-ness and your beautiful white box in which to pour all my feelings and thoughts into. I'll miss you for the week (at least) that I'm gone. This will be so weird. I am not used to being away from the Internet for more than a day, let alone a week (or more). Much like I'm not used to going days without talking to Scott on IM. Thank dollar stores for phone cards. I wish I could call him but I can't. Heh, we always do so well when we're talking until we have to say goodbye, then I choke up and i think he did too but maybe I was just hearing things. Oh well. I think I'm finally going to take these roses out of their vase, clear out the water which is now a yellowish brownish green color and maybe put one of the roses in my special memory box which is full of pictures. yay. They are so pretty even when they're old and all dried up. I made a collage in photoshop today. for Scott. It's on my deviantART gallery, but I'm going to send it to him via e-mail which he won't check until the day I leave the country, and him, for a year. "we can live like jack and sally if we want" But enough melodrama. I'm leaving the coun-try, I'm leaving the coun-try, I'm leaving the coun-try, neener neener neeeener! And I'm not going to france! so ha! Wow I am turning into an emo girl, ending things with lyrics rather than a simple goodbye. I have a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach that sitDiary is down (again) and I won't be able to post this. A long time ago (haha, long) in April, during Easter holiday, I was at my cousin's house. I was writing in this diary a few days after I got it and my cousin was looking over my entries and she said something about me being a good writer. I love compliments. You should give me some. You know you want to. Actually that wasn't the point of recalling that. The point was...well...I'm not sure there was a point. Just that I did remember it for some reason and now I'm writing out that memory. That's what you do in diaries. You write down your memories. I have got plenty to go around. Like that time when my 'cross-the-street neighbor taught me how to ride my bike. And she was a year younger than me. Yeah I didn't know how to ride a bike until I was 7 or 8. Sad but true. Or the one time I walked home from school with my next-door-neighbor and we talked about Simpsons the whole time. Or trick-or-treating in snow piled higher than I was tall when I was about 5 or so in Minneapolis visiting my aunt and uncle. etc.