Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.
Sixty-first Entry. The Table of Tortures.
08-05-2003 | 10:02 p.m.

In the famous words of Johnny Bravo, the cartoon God, "I win! Give me a stuffed panda!" Seriously, I have defeated the Table of Tortures! You can see it to the left of the entry, just beneath the picture. It looks good there, doesn't it? It's all nice and centered. It's clean, and efficient. Isn't it cool?

I understand that a table doesn't seem like much of a task for some of you tech savvy people. I know some of you have written your own video games, and others of you still could if you cared enough to try. Amateur programmers just lacking the contracts.

That's just it, though. I'm not. I don't know any of this HTML jargon. I got taught how to do line breaks, paragraphs, and text formatting in one day about two years ago from Amanda...the day after I got the diary and wrote my first entry. I no longer have my first entry-it was a casualty on the battlefield of love-but I do still have the knowledge.

I learned about hyperlinks and images by online guides. Everything else, though, I discovered by a means of trial and error. Careful tampering this way and that, finding the necessity of each dash or letter or size configuration. It's been an interesting go at things to say the least. Somehow, though, I have managed to succeed in my efforts, and the "Table of Tortures" is the latest example of this. It might have taken me a week, but I finally managed to get it right. I might have disfigured my diary in unforgivable ways, but I have not only corrected it, I have improved it. There is something I still don't understand, however. I don't know why it worked this time, but none of the other times. I can't figure out what it was that made the difference. I wish I did, but I haven't the slightest inclination to whatever in the hell happened. Who knows? I know what to do now, that's the important thing.

I want to work more on my diary. Perhaps make the "Damn The Bob" banner into a flashing banner. That won't take long, but it'll make the HTML for my dairy as long as a novel...What I need to do is figure out why on Earth my archives are coming up as blank pages. I've done everything I know to do, but still they are not working. I know I'm not the best "programmer" in the world, but I at least know how to make a page show up! This diary should be a proof of that, no? It's ridiculous that my archives aren't coming up. I'll tamper with them some more, and if I still produce no results, I'll just have to contact Andrew at [email protected]. Hopefully he can fix it if I can't, and knowing that he runs all of Diaryland...I have faith that he can.

I leave in a mere 15 days. It's much more real when you write it. You think it for hours and it doesn't seem like it's so soon. It feels like a month away. Two months. A year. But when you read it...when I read it..it feels like tomorrow. I want it to be tomorrow at times. I want it to be right now. I want to spend hours doing push-ups and sit-ups and everything else. I want to run for miles with a 60-pound rucksack on my back. I'm looking forward to it, actually. I can't wait. It seems like a decade when you type it out. Fifteen days. Fifteen. 15. Tomorrow.

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Flashes of High School
Summer of Change
No Brass, No ammo
Lost in Translation

Last Five

And that's that.
Referenced #2
To write them.
Heart vs mind.