My dad gave me his laptop. Yay, actually--I'm really glad. No more fighting for the downstairs computer, no more noisy children, no more people reading over my shoulder. *beams* It's a shweet little computer--runs really fast, wireless internet access (DSL or something similar), and like, four word processing programs. The ultimate writer's computer. Saw Natalie today at BAM. She was really snobby, I was reminded of the reasons I don't like her. People like her totally piss me off. I was so ready to smack her when her only reply to Matt's surgery was "Eh." Yeah, "eh" to you too. At any rate, she was trying to make me jealous about how she had been riding Willow and Emmitt and how Scott was going to go show Willow in some big-ass show next month and bleh bleh. I didn't listen. When I rode Willow, the horse shone. When Natalie rode Willow, she got thrown off and broke her arm. *sarcastic* All bow down to Natalie, queen of horsewomen! Egh. Yeah. So I retaliated by explaining my ultimate plans to show Peggy's horses for her, and she got very quiet, I think she got jealous. And she asked me about Jason, and i said he's great too, letting me show his horses--maybe i went too far. Something in that hateful look she gave me prompted me to rub my success in her face. Yes, Matt may be out of commission for a bit, but when he's back, we're going to whoop he sorry ass. And her little friend Morgan, too. Bleh. I hate arguing. Even indirectly like that, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth for days. I learned today of a pleasant (not.soo not.) little assignment I had due the first day of school. Did they think it was funny or something, not telling me? The smarmy fruits. But Natalie's mom told me about it. She's really nice--wonder what went wrong with her daughter? At any rate, I get to read four books:

The Old Man and the Sea,
A Gathering of Old Men,
Of Mice and Men,
The House on Mango Street

So yeah. Whatever. I get to write a report on each one too, char summaries and everything. Oh. And there's a test the second day of school too. Whoopee. ;_;... Mom doesn't like Hemingway. Dad does. Who knows--maybe I will. I love The House On Mango Street so far, though. But as it is, I cannot fish any deeper meaning of life out of it. Well, yet. Sometimes I'm not so sure about saying my feet are steady on the ground. All it takes is one little aftershock, and I fall to the ground and shatter like porcelain.