One of these days, I swear, I'm going to rip the telephone out of the wall and hurl the entire contraption out of the window.

I tend to get particularly irritated with the world and myself around 2 o'clock every Saturday afternoon. Maybe I should dig a cellar one of these days that I can lock myself in until the weekend is over. Not that weekends are especially upsetting or weekdays are particularly happy, but well, I don't really know what I'm griping about.

I was thinking about names yesterday while going home.

I have a name when I write and draw; a name when I'm at school (Ling); maybe I should get a name that suits my face, since quite a lot of people say I sure don't behave the way I look. So I thought I might as well get a name that corresponds to the times when I turn into a sweet, docile, inert-looking vegetable. It was then that I thought of the name Elizabeth. I like it sufficiently; it sounds sweet enough without going overboard; it doesn't sound too bad together with my surname; and it sure doesn't feel like me. Since my face doesn't either, I might as well be Elizabeth.

Weird huh.

I've been turning into Elizabeth more and more frequently, but only around certain individuals. I know they've noticed it. It takes too much effort, sometimes, to be Ling... I feel like I'm being an imitation of something I don't even know what it is. I don't want to think of funny things to say, or try hard to sound witty, or make fun of teachers or moan about lessons, which is pretty much of a routine that I find myself doing. I want to lie at the bottom like a limp seashell and let everything wash over me.

Frankly, I think I hate that name already.