02 February 2003 - 2:08 p.m.

My old self never would have said this, but really, no one can fry a chicken like Wal-Mart.

The old me would have eschewed corporate retail and walked to the Kosher store that really has no name and made the chicken my damn self.

But the new me can do u-turns and change lanes and park without having to back out and correct myself 3 times out of 4. The new me is a person I never really wanted to be, but that's okay, because the word "growth" has more positive connotations than necessary.

By night, the new me is sleeping on curlers.

By day, the new me has adorable hair.

The in-transition me fears Jumping the Shark. This is because the old me is too influenced by pop culture. But it could still happen. Meg Ryan jumped the shark when she cut her hair.

Neither the old nor the new me is anything like Meg Ryan, unless she is short. I have never paid attention to whether she is short.

The writer of this diary apologizes for sinking into a pit of insecurity. Insecurity has never been my schtick. Then again, for six years I claimed to be a crappy driver, and now, two days into my learner's permit, I can get myself to school, fried chicken and a new backpack without incident.

Only ten days till the next film quiz. The old me is confident. The new me is terrified. Both are relieved not to be entirely without yardsticks by which to measure whether I suck or not.

What I'm wearing: Gray jaquard drawstring pants, periwinkle v-neck sewater, red slippers, tortoiseshell Hello Kitty barette

What I'm reading: Gus turning pages

What I'm doing after this: Getting a drink of water and reading some sort of southern fiction