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Today, I am a three-year-old. Why, God? Why?

Why do cold snaps happen when I don't have my big fluffy sweater at school anymore?

Why do I finally get my car when my weekends are too busy to use it?

Why do a dozen jalepeno poppers cost ten bucks from the cafeteria? (mm, though they're goooood...)

Why don't any stores accept out-of-town checks anymore?

Why do some people (ahem, Drew) giggle like Winnie the Pooh, while I sound like Julia Roberts with a cold?

Why do my size-16 jeans feel tight, but my size-14 hip-huggers feel big?

Why do some protestants tell me I'm going to hell? (hey look, buddy, Catholics were here first...)

Why was I able to write a book two years ago, but now I don't have the patience for a short story?

Why did that cow on Neopets steal all my money?

Why does everyone in the world want my hair... except me?

Why do I protest that I have no time to do homework but I have plenty of time to write in my diary?

Why do people read my diary but rarely sign the guestbook or leave a note? (Psst. It's the button at the top that says "Say Hello," or the link to the right that says "Leave a Note." I'm begging you, if you love me, drop me a line from time to time.)

Why am I whining incessantly when I have a family that loves each other, two parents both still alive and married to one another, enough money to go to school and enough brains to do well in it, enough ambition to work hard and enough talent to make it worthwhile?

Shutting up now.

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