I went shopping today, in the pouring rain. Met up with seven other girls at Stacy's house before heading to Target. I volunteered to be a driver, being one of the most experienced of the group. I don't trust other people driving me around in the rain. Nothing personal. I trust my ability to avoid accidents, but you never know with other people who have had their licenses less than a year, if that.

We met a few more people at Target and began our long search. We were on a mission to find costumes for the senior Mock Rock, which will take place on October 6. It's so hard to decide what to wear when there are ten girls arguing about it. "No, my thighs are too big to wear leather pants," or "I'm too short," or "My hair is too long to fit under a wig." (that was me, sorry). Somehow we managed to decide on leather skirts and bright colored halter tops. It was a painful process which involved taking command of every store we looked at, storming the dressing rooms and running around with no shoes while searching for other options. All while trying to run back and forth across the parking lots without getting soaked.

We ended up at Haloween USA, which just opened last week (?), looking for tights and wigs. I voted for everyone getting the 'Super long 60" blondie' wig so that I wouldn't have to have fake hair. But it was a little too expensive for our predicted one minute and twelve second performance. So was the rest of the stuff we had already bought, but no one said anything. Why does everything have to be so complicated?

I drove my half of the group back to Stacy's house. We made a list of what we had bought to give to the rest of the girls who hadn't been able to come along. I guess they have to go find stuff on their own. Drove home in the rain, which was coming down harder and faster than ever. The roads were at an almost-flooded stage; I could feel the wheels leave the ground much too often to be at ease. Braking was scary. But I made it home.

Began a new drawing about an hour ago after waking up from a lengthy nap. My self portrait is almost finished, and the critique went surprisingly well. I hate drawing myself. Glancing in the mirror to brush my teeth is one thing, but staring at myself for hours while drawing all the imperfections I see is humiliating.

My eyelids are begining to droop. Twelve hours of sleep per day just doesn't seem to be enough. Goodnight.