(7 on a scale of dead to breathing)

We’ve begun to settle into the new house, though we still don’t have a phone or internet connection. I continue to neglect study and organisation.
There are only two days of school left. My response is fairly standard – excitement confused with nostalgia. I’ll miss Hornsby.
I had a quart of blood taken out of my arm yesterday. On the way to the clinic I had a conversation with my mum about how it is movies and tv create such a nice sense of control in people. That’s why my dad and I are so into Buffy. Along with the quality wit and pretty girls who are sometimes gay, it provides the experience of danger in a manageable atmosphere. We attempted to decide whether Buffy operates as a third level sign – separating our reality from a reality of constant threat in order that while watching we feel increasingly safe in our own non-buffy world (when in fact the world is full of stupid intangible pain). So we then talked about reality construction for a while, before agreeing that we have both remained godless because all institutions are so infuriatingly parochial.
I love my mum.
Last night was Alyssa’s under the sea party, which was really nice. There was more of a D and M atmosphere than I’ve experienced in a while. And punch.
I’m going to finish sorting out my room today. My mum has tried to make my mattress more bedlike by putting another two mattresses on top of it. I’m half expecting someone to put peas underneath me while I sleep in order to find out whether I’m marriable.