[First Entry: June 1st]

*Data of Myself*

Name: Marcus Schmidt

Date of Birth: June 14, 1994; 6:46:40 P.M.

Location of Birth: Celebration Health, Florida, United States of America

Current Location: London, England, United Kingdom

Birth weight: 6 pounds, 9 ounces; 0.6 stone; 2.7 kilograms

Current Weight: 121 pounds, 1936 ounces; 8.6 stone; 54.9 kilograms

Blood Type: AB-

Status: Healthy

Age: 17

Social Status: Recent graduate from St. Binah Secondary Preparatory School

NOTE: I find this "Journal" with little to no use. I still cannot comprehend why father is making me do this. He knows I'm not into this stuff...

[First Entry END]

[Second Entry: June 1st]

Summarization of Today's events so far (in Chronological Order):

up

care of my daily hygiene and exercise requirements

breakfast that consisted of bread (rye and toasted), bacon (smoked and blacked), eggs (Poached), tomatoes (vine-ripened), and mushrooms (Portobello).

Dante Alighiri's "Inferno" for the fifth time this month; twenty in the year so far

out for a breath of fresh air

various things, like Jung's theory of "Analytical Psychology"

lunch. Consisted of what was left-over from this morning and last night's dinner

the computer; played "Solitaire" for the second time this month; Forth time this year so far

NOTE: Today was pretty boring…much like the past couple of weeks. After I graduated, there is nothing really much to do. Then again, there wasn't

really that much to do in the first place….

[Second Entry END]

[Third Entry: June 2nd]

Since my last entry, I've decided to try to make this at least enjoyable when using this thing. I should at least try to "enjoy its use" before really getting

bored with it. So, here it goes...I can't think of anything that bears to mind that also requires my full input of this certain emotion…I guess I'll just talk

about my past and how I became who I am today…As said in my first entry in this journal, I was born in the United States, in a hospital called

Celebration Health in Celebration, Florida, probably around twenty miles from Orlando. I, to this day, still don't know of the woman who gave birth to

me or her spouse. Now that I have mentioned it, I don't really know about much of my "baby years." The only thing I remember from my childhood is my

father. He's not my real father, but he's like a father-figure to me. His name is Nikolas Schmidt Jr. You might have heard of his ventures. Maybe you

haven't since you're a journal and all. He was, in scientific terms, a "Nuclear Engineer". He'd basically created atomic bombs and weapons that related

to his profession for different countries, during his "years of vigor and youth." Don't worry though, he stopped studying in that profession. He's now a

regular old biologist. Interestingly enough, his grandfather, Nikolas Schmidt Sr., was, of course, the only person of modern German descent that was

involved in the "Manhattan Project", the secret project that led to the bombing of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Father doesn't really like to talk about him

that much. He said "his reasoning was very different from his" or something. I don't really think into it that much. Anyways, back to the subject, during

my elementary years, I went to school in London. Since I was the "son" of a famous scientist, I gained extra knowledge from strenuous amount of

private learning sessions and always at the top of my class. I was always, of course, the "A+" student in my school and actually skipped a couple of

grades, here and there. I eventually graduated as "Valedictorian" of my class. That's really all there is to it to my life and most of the past…Oh, I almost

forgot about someone. I could I even forget her! Like Father, I have a little sister named Marianne. She's adopted like me. She's usually energetic and

brash all the time, playing with her dolls like a normal little girl does. She just turned six, in fact. Heh, every time I see her, from trying to play "doctor"

with her dolls to putting on performances for me and Father, I feel warm inside, like if I was about to "pass gas" or something, you know the feeling. I

could talk about her all da-…Wow, is it getting that late. Dang, and just when I was getting into it. Oh well, there's always tomorrow…

Note: Maybe, this journal isn't so bad after all…

[Third Entry END]