I want to be friends with Clover, but Lake really doesn't seem to want me to have anything to do with her. I respect Lake's opinion, but I don't know what to do. On one hand, I don't want to cause any more turmoil than I've caused already. On the other hand I should be able to be friends with whomever I want to be friends with. I don't know what to do.

Gloria says all the weight issue is me, but she worries to. I know I see her. - Shirley

I just made a new ceiling ornament out of blood red pipe cleaners for the playroom. I think it looks pretty good.

I just glued random ceramic letters to my monitor. Some of them are upsidedown. After the glue set I think I'm going to color them with markers.

Twice tonight I've woken up Lake briefly for help. Once to help us rid the urge to vomit our corn. Then a second time because Cyndi came out, and even chatted on the IM with John. She had gotten as far as readying a razor blade when I was able to take back control and get Lake. Lake has gone back to sleep and I'm going to go back to drinking my catnip tea and chatting with John.

I don't know why Cyndi cuts or why she is so mean. She seems to go after the razor whenever she takes front. I don't like it, and she likes that I don't like it. She takes joy in tormenting the rest of us. I don't know why she's so mean. She must be in pain. That's all I can think of. Why else would she lash out like that. She must be in constant pain. That's all I can figure.

Maybe Cyndi knows the Great Secret. Maybe. Maybe.

The Great Secret is known only to a few. I only know of one who knows it for sure. Mildred knows. She's very very old. We trust her. She doesn't say much, but when she says something it's usually right-on. Mildred is always saying if more of us knew the Great Secret it would tear us apart. That we're not allowed to know. She doesn't want anyone to find out. The Guardian is always stopping me from trying to find out, when curiosity gets the better of me. I want to know, but I'm afraid, because I trust Mildred.

My religious beliefs make suicide pointless. I believe in reincarnation. Essentially: Life's a bitch, then you die, then you reincarnate, then life's a bitch again.

I'm going to walk up to the water tower at Park Circle. There I shall await the sunrise.

Back from the water tower. The sunrise was wonderful. It's a 20-25 minute uphill hike to the water tower, but well worth it. From the water tower you can see the entire skyline of Boston cast in marvelous shades of green, purple, and pink. The water tower itself is beautiful as well. Not one of those white-painted metal blimp water towers, but a beautiful round structure of granite and limestone.

Coming back I had a bit of a disturbing experience. My vision started getting blurry. Then my eyes began involuntarily flickering. I heard a voice say "You think that was odd?" and suddenly I went from being near the top of the hill to being near the bottom. I can't imagine what could possibly have been a trigger. At least, I traveled in the direction that I had wanted to.

I want to call Clover, but I'm afraid of pissing Lake off again. It's probably best that I don't call her. Lake is much much more important to me than Clover. I'll just let it be. I'm sad that I can't both have a happy Lake and Clover as a friend, but what can I do? I just have to live with how things are, and Lake has a strong hatred of Clover. I had no idea it was as strong a hatred as it is until last night. I have to respect Lake's feelings on the matter. I will initiate no more contact with Clover, and if Clover contacts me I'll tell her that things are just not going to work out.

My neck and shoulder are hurting again. The knot in the pillow, though it seemed a likely problem, was not the problem. I disarmed and removed the suspicious pillow last week. I don't know what's causing my neck and shoulder to hurt. It could be the activities of an alter. More probably, it's what Lake suspects: the position of my monitor. I have to turn my head slightly to look at my monitor while I type. I will try moving the monitor and see if that helps my neck and shoulder.

After your cat has finished "taking a bath", dry her or him off with your hand. "Ewwwww... people germs! And I just washed!" Usually, the cat will be prompted to rewash the dried area. Repeat.

When typing my last entry I noticed that I almost typed "him or her" instead of "her or him". Alphabetically "her" should come first. There is no non-sexist reason for "him" to come first. I've already written and entry about the order of "female" and "male" in most forms, but I hadn't noticed the problem of order in my own writing. It's scary how engrained things like that can be. I'm so used to the order imposed by society and language that I have to look just to notice it sometimes.