Paul just left. Tonight, he will stay in a hotel room and then tomorrow, he's off to boot camp. It's pretty weird seeing your brother, who's always been the model of irresponsibility, actually get his life together. It's kind of inspiring and scary at the same time. Like, it can be done. Someone who managed to mess his life up that much actually can get it back together. But on the same token, he can do it, so what excuse do I have? Now I have to make it.

Either way, he's got eight or ten weeks in boot camp and then for the next four years, he's got a steady job. He's not too sure what he's doing in there yet, but I think he wants to go onto the ships and travel around the world. I hope he makes it. I know he can, but I hope he wants it enough to go for it.

So, now that that's over with, there's the little matter of New Year's Eve to contend with. I went to the party, which kind of sucked. I got fairly drunk, but not even close to as drunk as I was at my birthday party. At around 3:30 or so, I'd had enough and I wanted to go home. So, when this girl Dorian said she was going home, I asked if she could drop me off on her way. As I pulled up, I saw my brother and Fatty in the kitchen. I immediately was excited, considering I had thought I wasn't ever going to see Fatty again.

I walked in and we all hung out for awhile and then my brother and I started play fighting. Then I got Fatty into it and after about two hours of this, I ended up in Fatty's lap on our couch. Paul turned off all the lights and we just lay there for a little bit, reliving the whole Trix Rabbit/Easter Bunny conversation (it's a long story). At one point, we were lying face to face and I just kept saying the same thing over and over again, just to be annoying, when all of a sudden, he leaned forward and kissed me. So I kissed him back.

This went on for awhile, and then I realized he was shaking. I was like, "Why are you shaking? Are you cold?" He kind of laughed and said, "No, I'm nervous." It completely astounds me when anyone is nervous around me. And so I asked him, "Why are you nervous?" He shrugged and was silent for a little bit. Then he leaned his forehead onto mine and said, "I like you."

How does this happen? I am not particularly beautiful. I'm a pretty emotionally fucked up person. I do not have any outstanding talents. I don't have a great plan for the future. I'm just some fucked up kid, floating around out there. And yet, I somewhere got the power to fool older guys into overlooking all these aforementioned downfalls. Again, how does this happen?

So, there I am, at about 5:30 or 6:00 in the morning, with this cute guy's forehead against mine, and he's telling me he likes me. What do I do? How should I proceed? I decided to just be honest. I told him, "I like you, too." This is true. I have liked him, since I was about 15 and especially since St. Patrick's Day last year.

He relaxed a little and we kissed some more. Then he brought up the thing that's been bothering me since this whole thing started a week ago. "After Paul leaves, I'm not going to have an excuse to come over here anymore." I nodded and thought for a second and then I just said, "You can come over to see me." He smiled and said okay and we went back to kissing.

The sun came up and my mom came downstairs and I finally fell asleep on the couch... next to Fatty. I woke up at 2:45 and got ready for work. Then I left for work.

Who knows where this will go? I know where I want it to go, but I don't know how far he's willing to take it. He's got my number, he knows where I live... the ball's in his court now. We'll see. Only time will tell.

I will say this, though: It was one hell of a way to start the new year.