12/03/50
Life is so predictable. It's boring. All we do is go to work, listen to the news, watch burnings, and watch the parlor. Kids have resorted to meaningless violence just to entertain themselves. It's never in the media, though, because the government doesn't want us to know just how many deaths are caused by teenage boredom.
My "friends" are a bunch of airheads obsessed with the pretty pictures that flash across the screen on the parlor. They have no appreciation for the acting, and they have no passionate loathing for the terrible plots. I do pretend to love the silly plots, just to pacify them.
There was a burning a few houses down last night. I hate it when it's so near because everyone has to go out and make a big fuss over how they all had "always known the neighbors were a bit odd." They have to keep me up with their incessant chattering. Although I do find the sight of fire quite stunning, and would probably be up watching the flames anyway. Their chatter still annoys me.
Some silly program was on the parlor this evening. They had all the classics in it, from Bach and Romeo to Jesus himself. It was quite comical, seeing Christ ramble on about Cola and deodorant. The scriptwriters have no imagination. Each episode is only a handful of minutes long and jam-packed with advertisements imbedded into the scripts.
I had my friends over for lunch today. We had a spectacular time, if you omit the fact that I hate them. All they ever talk about is my house this, my husband that, or I saw this or I heard that. They never have anything interesting to say. I guess this is what I get for being different.
Some days I hate being intelligent.
>Millie
