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May 28, 2007
The room was my enemy. There were so many thing in here that wanted me.

My journal lay open at a clean page, a pen in the crease called out for me to sit and write down my day.

My fish swam lazy circles in his little glass bowls. Maybe he is hungry. Does his water need changing?

The computer cyclops started at me with his large grey glass eye. “Log on,” he whispered. “Play with me. Write a blog. Check your e-mail.”

Now if only I could remember, what did I come in here looking for to start with?