Frankie say: No More.

I left Merlin's party so I could fill out the application that Enterprise sent me. So of course I've done no such thing. I saw mony at the party, and she informed me that since I started my account here, about 134987321459128743 people I know have also established their own blog at LJ. Suddenly I realised that some of them had likely stumbled upon me, and I felt that familiar self-consciousness again.
It didn't last long. My mother reads this--I should be able to handle this new twist. And it's not as if I'd planned this to be a secret project, by any means. I just... I went and examined some of their pages, and was dosed with a stern helping of the Henry syndrome. (Back when I started reading Henry's journals and he said things that meant something, and he framed his thoughts with wonderful words and evocative phrasing. Where I said 'Hum. Been a week since I made an entry. There's a good reason for it. Nothing's happened'.)
But this is my ugly little half-witted baby, and I love it and shan't smother it just for that.

For the past week, my entire world has been full of people buzzing about Neil's game. And I feel so amazingly isolated from it. It's not that Neil's game isn't fun and wonderful, or that I don't enjoy myself. I just fail to be so absorbed by it that I can keep up with everybody around me. It doesn't pull that level of passion and devotion from me.

For those keeping score at home, I read in the paper this week that Minna Sandmeyer's body was found. The coroner thinks she hung herself. Apparently, once she was discovered, some friends said 'oh yes, we forgot to mention that she was feeling depressed before she vanished suddenly'. People say that if they'd knew she was depressed, they would have offered her more support. And I'm certain they would have.