My tile set is done. Uncle Mike is my pen pal. I sent him my most precious, closest-to-my-heart entry from “Jen’s book of Wierd Creatures.” I’m half hoping he won’t use it. If he does, I hope to goodness he won’t change it too much. Allthough he’s perfectly welcome to change the name: Shilisk is pretty stuped, and it means nothing. I haven’t written for almost a week, and it’s been bugging my concience. This fact pleases me very much: I’m trying to make it a habit to write in my journal every day. I think you should too. It really pays off. I have developed a habit of brushing my teeth, washing my hands and face, every night, and that’s good also. I even remembered to brush my teeth this morning. I reminded Amy to do so, too. Last night, young women was SOO boring. Mom got mad at me for banging the car next to us with my door, and not making a fool of myself by going along with the vido Sis. Gremillion puton. It had this guy “dancing” to Oldies songs. Well, anyway, mom yelled a lot at me in the car, and all the while I kept thinking over and over that thing from the abridged “Cliff Notes” about the Old Testement: “God makes man, and everything man does makes God angry.” It seems that mom is mad at me more often than anything else. But when she stopped yelling, the song on the tape we were listening to had a chorus like this: “If I ever lose my faith in you, there’ll be nothing left for me to do.” I thought it applied to us perfectly: Mom’s mad at me most of the time, but if she ever stops loving me, or I her, there’ll be no hope for either of us. I still haven’t told anyone about that ring. I sent another story to “The New Era,” but it’s rather dumb as well. It’s based on my stealing that stuped, stuped ring. I sent a letter that said I’d edited it and gone over it several times, but I was so impatient to get it in the mail that I only went over it once, and edited it about twice, and basically sent the story in half finished. Next time I will edit and go over whatever I send several times. I still haven’t told anyone about these stories I’ve been sending, and I’m not going to. I haven’t told anyone about my wierd creature book either, and that is much more important to keep secret. I desperately need to clean my room. I think I will today. But it won’t do much good unless I clean off my desk as well. If I do that, the rest of the work will be trivial. I really enjoy the way Mike refers to Tolkien in his letters, but I don’t think he uses quite enough respect when speaking of, of, say, Smaug. He doesn’t quite understand what Tolkien’s works really are. I’m a bit worried about Mike. From what his letters say, I would guess he doesn’t know some more important things too. Like in “The Egypt Game,” he doesn’t know the full extent of what he’s dealing with. The power that fantasy has over people’s minds is a very dangerous thing, and I think Mike is taking his responsibility a bit too lightly. He may hold people’s lives in his hands ere long, I would say. And I know his game will never make it in today’s market. If it does, it will meet with quite a lot of public disapprobal. It’s too like “Dungeons and Dragons.” Mom says I have to go to Air Academy high school next year. I’m sure I’d much rather be homeschooled, so I’m only half grateful to her for making up my mind for me. We were just in the stake center for a whlie, and it was rather boring. Tomorrow, Friday, we have no school. I think that’s great. Danny is singing very silly things about bozers, dumptrucks, dirt, and grass. We are driving to the library, a very cool place, and I don’t just mean awesome. It is 10:31.