Dear Diary

Hi, I'm Lisa. I'm nine years old. I'm cute and very smart. This is my diary.

...

Dear Diary,

I dreamt about a melon-headed man whose body was made of butter. I played with my cousin's orangutan after lunch. My uncle ate seven slices of apple pie. I like ice cream and chocolate milk. I ride a Schwinn.

Dear Diary,

I dreamt of a battle between lemons and onions. The lemons won. I went to school and it was okay.

Dear Diary,

The world is made up of people and places and things. That is what Mrs. Lindlederry told us in class today. I ate popcorn after dinner while watching Dexter with my dad.

Dear Diary,

David farted in class. It was gross. I don't like David. He's mean.

Dear Diary,

I shot a deer with a bow and arrow.

Dear Diary,

I had French toast, an egg sunny side up, a fruit bowl, yogurt, and a cup of coffee for breakfast. I took a nap afterward. I watched football with my brothers. They teased me because I don't understand the game.

Dear Diary,

Do cowboys always wear hats? I want to be an astrophysicist when I grow up but with superpowers that give me the ability to teleport so that I can get away from Frumpy McIntyre in homeroom. She is so annoying. I have a pet grasshopper named Turtles. :-)

Dear Diary,

Why are diamonds hard? What makes snow? Who is my real mom?

Dear Diary,

I ate a fistful of grapes and called it a day.

Dear Diary,

Once you've decided you're no longer willing to allow adults to rule your life you'll never feel like a child again. That's a good thing.

Dear Diary,

I bumped my elbow. It hurts.

Dear Diary,

One million pounds of dirty underwear were discovered off the coast of Florida. No one reacted because everyone was talking about how the president farted during a press conference.

Dear Diary,

Mutton chops for breakfast. Again.

Dear Diary,

I had an idea for a video game. Combine Call of Duty with Civilization. That would be cool. I have asthma. I think it causes anxiety because when I can't breath well I freak out. I don't know why God hated me so much that He gave me asthma. God's an asshole.

Dear Diary,

My dad is freaking out about taxes. He punched a hole in the wall. I looked inside the hole and it smelled bad. I think there are dead mice in the walls. My Dad doesn't care. All he thinks about are bills and taxes. He's boring and scary and he has no imagination. He's a bad role model so I observe his behavior like an anthropologist so I can learn how not to live my life as an adult. I love him, though. But sort of like how I love my pet grasshopper named Turtles. He died. I cried a little then I put him in the garbage. There are plenty of grasshoppers. There are a lot of dads, too, but only one of them is mine. I think he loves me, but not as much as he loves complaining about bills. It's sad, really. I expect more from my life than that. You'd think he would, too.

Dear Diary,

Do you think I'm weird? I do. Not in a bad way, but I think other people think I'm weird in a bad way. I'm not sure yet if I care what they think. Everyone seems very simple-minded and concerned about trivial things. People are soooooo boring. Kids are a little better, but only because they're hyperactive and make a lot of noise. I like the chaos and I hate it when adults make us "behave"--what a stupid description. We were "behaving" when were running around the classroom playing tag. But the teachers want us to sit silently in our uncomfortable chairs for hours on end while they drone on about stuff that is so ridiculous it's hard to believe they even believe what they're saying. I think they just like the rush of power that comes from dominating us. We're small! If we were bigger and stronger we would kick their asses and go play.

Dear Diary,

I can tell I'm really transforming. Ever since I decided not to allow adults to rule my life I can feel the difference. My thought is more complex now; I have the ability to observe and listen with attentiveness for long periods of time and I'm able to make analyses in such a way that I can judge circumstances adequately enough to make decisions that result in high levels of pleasure and satisfaction. It's easy to manipulate other people because they haven't taken ownership of their thoughts, decisions, and actions. They're not inherently stupid, but by following the rules like sheep and playing the roles that have been designed to limit their potentials they have been molded into manifestations of stupidity. The one big problem is that I'm incredibly lonely; I feel alienated because no one is even able to understand what I'm saying. If I said these things to other kids they'd go, "huh?" and if I said them to adults they'd punish me for being insolent. I recognize their patterns. I know better than to open my mouth to them because they have physical and societal powers I don't. This dynamic won't last forever, though. I'll continue aging and eventually become an adult. Between now and then I am going to learn as much as I can so I can gain power over them and make them do what I want to do. I haven't decided whether I'll be malicious or if I'll be generous. I could make them feel pain and suffering or I could free them from the shackles they've created for themselves and everyone else, reintroduce play into their lives, but not simple-minded play; no, play that challenges conceptions of reality and what is possible. For now, I'm going to play with my Barbie doll.

Dear Diary,

I wonder if such a thing as communal libertarianism could be developed as a political philosophy.

Dear Diary,

My math teacher is stupid. I'm not claiming to understand the complexity of mathematics, but the idea that zero exists, except in a contextual sense (There are zero apples on the table), seems foolish. As an abstract concept zero makes no sense to me. How does it coexist with one? Zero represents nothingness and one represents somethingness and yet these two opposites have a relationship between one another? For mathematics to work differentiation is necessary. Zero provides no differentiation at all, either as nothingness or compared to somethingness. Zero becomes somethingness within mathematics because it is given a relational status. By making nothing something a type of thought develops that makes thought warped. One's perspective on the world cannot be healthy if nothing is believed to be something and that something could possibly be nothing. This is the same type of thinking that led to ideas such as "In the beginning there was nothing and then there was Oneness (God)." Huh? This is no different than going from zero to one. Pretty disturbing that mathematics has within its concepts the origins of religious beliefs about the origin of the universe. The Big Bang theory is the same. First there was nothing and then nothing exploded into something that became an infinitude of somethings differentiated from one another by time and space. I'm curious about how nothing came before something. What something existed within nothing that allowed nothing to release its somethingness into so much somethingness that nothingness ceased to exist ... except as a nothingness that exists within somethingness. If nothing came before God then nothing must be the parent of God. If Jesus is the son of God then Jesus must be the grandson of nothingness. Evolutionary theory is big on saying that humans evolved from primates but that's just the first step. Ultimately, if religion, physics, and mathematics have any truth to them, then humans evolved from nothing just as all somethings evolved from nothing. See how stupid this shit is?

Dear Diary,

Seriously, if I have to go to my fourth grade class one more day I am going to puke. I can't stand it. At this point, I'm just biding my time until I'm a teenager, maybe 14, so I can hit the road and make my own way. I'm too fucking small and young-looking to be taken seriously by adult society at this point, but I have to figure out some way to escape from being incarcerated seven hours each day. This is fucking hell!

Dear Diary,

I decided to head over to the junior high school after school with a fifth grader named Joey. His older brother is in eight grade and he sells pot. I think the only way I'm going to make it through school for the next five or so years is to get high every day. My thought is too vast to be in such a limiting environment so I may as well seek pleasurable relief from the sweet leaf. I stole forty bucks from my dad's wallet and bought an eighth of weed called New York Diesel. It's supposed to be killer. Joey's brother, Max, told me to just have one hit because I hadn't smoked before. He said I'd be high as a kite after just one puff. That's awesome because then this stuff will last me a while. I'm going to smoke before school tomorrow morning. Max showed me how to use an aluminum can to make a bowl with a carb in it. You make an indentation in the middle of the can, poke a hole with a screwdriver or something, and then poke a hole in the bottom of the can--definitely need a screwdriver there because the bottom is much harder than the middle. Once that's done you put a bud over the hole in the middle of the can, hold a finger on the hole on the bottom of the can, put your lips to the opening of the can that you normally drink from, light the bud while inhaling for a bit, and then release the finger on the bottom hole and the smoke that's built up in the can gets sucked into your mouth, throat, and lungs. Then in a few seconds or maybe a minute you feel really, really, really good. I can hardly wait!

Dear Diary,

I got busted today for being high in school. Everything worked just like Max said it would and, boy, I was floating. My dad was still bitching about bills and taxes so he didn't notice how loopy I was, but Mrs. Lindlederry said I smelled like pot. Fucking bitch. Total buzz kill going to the principal's office. But once I got inside the office they made me wait and I just zoned out. It was nice. When the principal finally came to see me I was like, "Is it tomorrow already? Holy shit, you took forever in there." Principal Hardy shook his head and told me to get into his office. I really didn't want to move. The chair was so damn comfy! But I made myself get up and go into his office. Hardy said a bunch of shit, lecturing me, I suppose. I'm not entirely sure what he said--which was awesome!--because I was still really high. I know I got busted and all and my dad was mad (that will pass as soon as he gets another bill), but I can see the benefits of smoking cannabis to get through school. Instead of going insane from hearing all the ridiculous bullshit propaganda teachers are selling as truth, I'll be floating in my seat wondering if the Easter Bunny could kick Santa's ass in a fight. LOL! Oh, man, I love cannabis. Truthfully, though, I wouldn't need it if the thought of the world wasn't so full of shit.