I’m so tired of beans and hardtack. The vitamin pills stick in my throat and comms went down for five hours so no news, nothing. What a bore. I’m going to head to the hydroponics bay. Maybe something has grown. I swear there was a zucchini on one of the plants and maybe a tomato. Let’s hope that Gris didn’t get the munchies last time he was up there. What? Of course I’m going to share with him. (stomps off).
I thought Outpost 311 was pretty trashy to begin with. Now that there’s been a party there’s crap everywhere. Wait till I get my hands on Gris. I swear he’s left tomato sauce smears on the power generator. And what does he mean serving drinks from the hazchem bucket. Even I know that he should have cleaned the bucket first.
So some friends are getting together to celebrate the book about me going out into the world. For some reason they want to dress up like space pirates and Centauri slaves. I’m going to wear a sizzling hot, red ship suit, that will make me look so sleek and trim, others will just oggle me. I am never dressing like a space pirate or a slave girl. How disgusting! I’ve so been there and done that.
I just found out that there’s a book about me and my adventures. I’m so pleased to know that I do get off this lump of rock sometime. Yay. Me!
There’s a lot of words in that book. I think I’ll have to learn to read. It’s a bit more complicated than a checklist.
I fell asleep watching A Slave’s Lament again last night. I woke with a jolt and hit my head on the console. I had one of those dreams, like a premonition. Something is going to happen very soon. I am sure I’m right. Five Earth days. You check back here. I’ll bet you a can of my bean ration that my premonition comes true.
Years on the outpost are different that Earth. It’s hard to differentiate them. There are no celebrations and if we do try to celebrate something it’s because some new update has come in from Earth. It so distant. So remote from our daily lives that I don’t really understand why we would celebrate. For these reasons, I have no new year resolutions. That’s what Gris says what you call them. Things that you decide to do for yourself, to change or strive for. I don’t have those but I have dreams.
My dreams are endless and they keep me going and stop me from feeling sad.
Nothing much happening here. Gris is somewhere fixing something and I am bored, bored, bored. There may be something on the newscast from Earth. What’s this white stuff on the screen. Someone is broadcasting snow. Happy dance!