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16 April 2003 at 2:59 pm

I want a job in which I don�t have to work with people. I�m not a people person. I don�t believe I ever will be.

So Thursday, I arrive in Santa Barbara, ready and rarin� for way too much fun. Suzzi and Jessica picked me up from the airport and we popped back to Suzzi�s pad for a joint. I had decided that upon arrival in SB, all I wanted to do was smoke pot and sit on the beach, so that�s what we did next. And then we walked to Java Jones to meet up with Sanam and we chatted for a mo and then Geo came and she was so cute I almost died. Yay.

And then other stuff happened and all of a sudden Morgan had lost all writing skills.

I woke up on Saturday morning in extreme pain, so of course, I called my mommy. She told me to go to the hospital, so I did, and I cried in the motherfucking emergency room.

Allow me to clarify something: I am not a baby. The last time I went to the emergency room was for surgery in the fifth grade for a lymph node that they thought had leukemia (it was nothing). I come from a family in which the only reason we go to the hospital is for things that cause death or dismemberment. When I broke my arm, my mom waited two days before she was convinced it required a cast. We are not hospital people.

Additionally, I do not get sick very often, and when I do I normally get really sick for a few days and then snap out of it. I was really surprised at the fact that I was sick, just at how sick. And the pain, my god, the pain! It felt like every muscle in my body was contracting at once. It sucked. To the hospital I went.

Anyway, they said it was the flu and to fuck off, but not without giving me some Vicodin and something to speed up the healing process.

The whole weekend was fucked to begin with, but the fact that I was bed ridden the whole time didn�t add to anything. The reason the weekend was fucked was because there was so much pressure: in five days, I was somehow expecting to fit Intense Heart-to-Hearts with 10 of my closest friends, none of whom are in the same social group, and a side-trip to L.A., all while completely inebriated.

Oh well.

I�ve been trying to write this all day. Stupid work. I�ll finish tomorrow.

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.