I've been doing quite a bit of work on Dying Diary this morning... check it out.
      Another really crummy night, coughing, nightmares... I got up when Karen's alarm went off at 05:30, even though I went to bed at 00:30 this morning. I probably got two hours of sleep, total. And I feel like it, too. I still can't talk, in fact it's getting worse instead of better. Which is crummy, because I wanted to call my mom and JD, but I can't even answer the telephone and make myself heard.
      I was reading someone's diary, and he mentioned that even though his wife was gone for the weekend, he still put the toilet seat back down. Boy, they've got us trained, don't they? <*G*> What I really have trouble with... is why they (the women) aren't required to put the toilet seat UP, since it's a matter of courtesy anyway. Why aren't women expected to be nice right back to us? Why can the world not be fair, at least in this respect?
      Hmmm... I think that I may have talked about this before. Forgive me if I have. If I haven't, forgive me for bringing it up.
      I wonder why I am so apologetic. I need to get over that.

      OK. I have a confession to make: I am not a duck! Sure, I want to be a duck, doesn't everybody? But I'm not. I know, I've said that I was a duck. Sometimes I talk like a duck and walk like a duck. But that doesn't make me a duck.
      I want shit to roll off of me, I really do. But it doesn't. It sticks, it penetrates. It irritates, it creates oozing sores. I have proclaimed to the world that I am not a writer, I do not want to be a writer. But then, when someone... only one someone, mind you... tells me I can't write... I ignore all of the other evidence, all of the people that tell me that they enjoy my writing... and I believe that I can't write.
      OK, I've gotta get over it, I know that. But I can't get over it until I've had my say. And I say that I'm pissed. I'm pissed that I ever wanted to join an elitist ring, and I'm pissed that I applied, I'm pissed that I was turned down, and I'm pissed at the way I was turned down.
      As you can see, half of what I'm pissed about is due to my own actions. The other half is due to the actions and words of someone that I don't know.I have no reason to respect her judgement of writing or of anything else. I am no more impressed with her journal that I am with probably fifty others. Some of my favorite journalers are in her ring, though. And I am certainly not going to boycott any journal, hers included. I enjoy reading everyones' journal, almost without exception. That is not going to change. And my writing is not going to change, either. What you see is what you get.
      I did get a nice letter from Lucy explaining her actions and explaining that non-acceptance is going to be a non-response instead of a critique. I thought that was good of her to do that. But "pedestrian" still rankles.
      OK...end of rant. I will try harder to be a duck. I like ducks. Ducks have fun all of the time. I want to be a duck.

I've been doing a lot of playing today. I came across a menu thingy that I really like, and it fits on the main page really well. Please give it a try... if it doesn't work for you, give me a yell! I've tried it out in netscape and MSIE 4.0, so I know (?) it works with them, at least on my machine.