Days on the Island of Doom: 3, 12 PM

You know, it's my understanding that islands are supposed to be happy. They're fun, relaxing…people bring you drinks with little umbrellas in them. Last time I read a vacation brochure nowhere did it say that upon setting foot on an island you would have to deal with monsters, dead bodies, and lie to 48 people about their collective fates.

Yet there I was, just minutes ago, standing next to Sayid, comforting some guy named Larry (who was a little too 'hands-y' for my taste), telling him everything would be okay and we'd get the transceiver working. I did not tell him about the French and their message of despair or that everyone on the trek went gun crazy.

God, that stupid gun. Last night, after I finally fell asleep, I woke up to everyone yelling. Boone had the gun in his hand. Both pieces, meaning he took them from both Sayid and Sawyer. Neither one looked too happy about it either.

Everyone was yelling, and demanding the gun, which is really the way to make a nervous guy with a gun hand it over. I finally had enough of it. "Boone," I said calmly, taking a few steps towards him. "Just put the gun down," I tried to reason with him. He meant well. I knew he did. Stealing it just might not be the best way to convince the others.

Finally, someone suggested Kate take the gun, which everyone seemed okay with and everything calmed down. I was just left staring at the sky, unable to sleep (again) and listening to Shannon snore. Deviated septum, my ass.

Anyway, everyone's got 'jobs' now. Gathering electronics for a new transceiver radio, gathering food and water, etc. Sawyer's job apparently is 'collect all the random shit you can and drag it to his little corner of the beach.' What is he going to do with five bottles of sun tan lotion and eight pairs of sunglasses?

Hurley (the big guy) and I have been helping Jack with his patient. I know a little First Aid and…well…the guy had a fairly large piece of metal sticking out of his chest so it's not like I could do anything worse. Anyway, Hurley's entertaining, at least. It's sad, one good pop culture reference and I'm your best friend forever.

I'm watching Shrapnel Man until Jack gets back from his medicine quest. He seems kind of out of it today. Not that he doesn't have a lot on his mind, being the only doctor of 48, but the way he and Hurley keep giving each other looks, they're either having an affair or know a secret.

God, I hope it's a secret.

…I have to find out that secret.

Thank God I learned long ago I can blame my innate nosiness on my job. Thank you, Journalism School.

Things to do today:

Help Sayid organize everyone's 'jobs' (Why the hell did everyone volunteer for food duty? It's a job, not an invitation to gorge yourself on airplane food!)

Figure out a tactful way to tell Larry to stop staring at my boobs.

Make sure someone's rationing water.

Find suntan lotion!

FIGURE OUT JACK AND HURLEY'S SECRET!