. . . like tears in Raine

I doodle on my Converse. Sketch pictures of dinosaurs, illumine fragments of quotes. Whenever I look down at my right toe, I see these words:

TRUTH IS SUBJECTIVE
Facts Are Negotiable
perception determines reality

I belong to the cognitive school of psychology. It's also called existentialist, but what it amounts to is the conviction that you can control your own thought patterns. If you are depressed, you can choose to stop by changing the way you react to events. I've accumulated a number of tricks over the years, like painting my nails and drinking pink beverages. I look at my passport and $500 Delta voucher and keep a knapsack packed.

I remember training myself to smile when I was about 11. I was at Disney World with my family, and thought "this is a happy occasion. We are having fun. I ought to be smiling." It felt very strange, pasted on, but it got easier with time until now I can't stop smiling even when I am sad.

I had to leave in the middle of class today because I knew I'd start crying if anyone looked at me.

I'm sorry about all this; I'm better when I'm doing humor and clever witticisms. I would tell you what was wrong if I knew. Of course, if I knew, it wouldn't remain wrong.

Finally, a Comic Entry

[At 3:00, my mother calls]

Mom: I've figured out the problem you're having with the bank.

Me: Oh!

Mom: You're Yossarian.

Me: That's the problem?

Mom: Yes. You're Yossarian, and you'd be a lot happier as Milo
Minderbinder. Go to.

Me: And you, as Orr, are advising me?

Mom: Yeah, pretty much.

Me: Damn. This metaphor means Valancy dies, doesn't it?

Mom: Yes; we'll be very mournful, especially since she's killed by
our own guys, but these things happen.


[Later]


Val: Goddamnit! You better actually notice I'm
holding my entrails instead of trying to fix my arm! If I'm
cold, it's all your fault!

Me: That's not how you die! (pause) Is it?

Val: I figured I was the kid.

Me: Oh, you are. I just thought you were sliced in half by a low-
flying plane.

Val: No, that's the other kid! I figured he was Patrick!

Me: No, he's Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick and jumps out of
windows a lot. You'll just have to be both the kids and die
twice.

Val: You're fuckin' evil, man. Does that make me
Milo?

Me: No, the whole point is that I'm supposed to be. Only I'm
really Yossarian.

Val: Inescapably. Definitively. We pity you.

Me: Fuckin' A.

[The Target cashier rips off his disguize, revealing a knife-wielding woman who tries to kill Romie.]