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	This week's ReEntry editor is a journal addict, PC-wielding webbie, wannabe artist, inspired poet and occasional feather brain... Anne of Green Gables in the suburbs. Meet... Ri

I do not read boring journals. Let's just get that out in the air right now. If it makes me yawn, I won't be back. If all you're going to do is write out a laundry list of your day, or write diatribe after diatribe about your depression, and how much life stinks, count me out. I don't want Valium, I want caffeine and sugar!

For me, a journal must do one of three things: It must capture me with excellent writing and the appropriate  mm, how do you say  panache. Or pluck at my heart-strings and force me to identify with the author. Or make me laugh so hard that I squirt Cherry 7-Up out my nose.

These are four of the journals that accomplish that and more, and are on my "Why isn't there an update yet? Where is she? Why doesn't she stinkin' update?!" list.

Freedom of Speech and the S-word
Jabberywocky

"I am a First Amendment fanatic who may not like your views or the language you use to express those views but who will defend vigorously your right to do so. Unless you are my son, of course. One of the interesting things about being a parent is that I've realized the Bill of Rights does not really apply to my children. Our house, our rules."

You can't scare her... she's a mom. Meet Elspeth, mother, wife, homemaker, and all the other job descriptions that come with those three titles. This woman amazes me. One of my greatest goals in life is to become a wife and mother in a stable, loving family. Elspeth's journal opens a window into my dream for me. The antics of her husband and sons keep me chuckling, and her perspective as a mother bringing up three boys is very precious to me as I prepare to begin my own family. Her experience, her flair and her apple-a-day attitude are more than enough to keep me coming back for more.

My Face in the Mirror
This Precious Shining

"As I sat there this morning, picking myself apart, Tom came in, swooped down from behind me, and planted a kiss on my cheek. "Good morning, beautiful." he said. He thinks I'm beautiful. As utterly anti-feminist and antidiluvean as it seems, somehow, that makes everything okay, because he's the only one I need ever impress."

Dreama is quickly becoming one of the leading names in journaling. Her journal, though young by most standards, is climbing the ranks to reside beside those like The Mighty Kymm, Al Shroeder, and Ginkgo. Names you have to know if you want to even say you know what an online journal looks like. Raised on the missions field, this woman lives life with such passion and abandon that it's amazing she doesn't find it exhausting. I'm surprised it's not illegal to have so much fun just living. Her talent in journalism stuns me, and draws me back again and again. I love people who know just how much to say, and don't say any more or any less. Every thought is as complete as it needs to be. No more. No fluff. No fuss and feathers. Just exactly what she wants to say. I wish I could do that...

No Room for Cartwheels
Dancing in the Fog

"The problem with literature is analysis, and the problem with analysis is writing the stupid essay. I don't mind the discussion in class about symbolism or hidden meaning, but I deeply despise having to write a coherent paper on the topic. It's too formulated, too rigid, too much like Mr. Ballard's physics lab write-ups with its overbearingly specific rules. No room for free-style. No room for creative thought. No room for my careful cartwheels."

Short and sweet and to the point, and somehow, Celeste also manages to mix a little rambling in, too. Insights into a tender and fragile soul mixed tastefully with rants and daily accounts. And she updates a lot. Big plus. Her complaints and rants about the world ring very close to home, and remind me how tumultuous the high school years were for me. In this entry, she expounds upon the follies of literature essays, and the trials of writing one. Ah feel yo pain, sistah...

Spot the Grown-up!
iRREGULAR jOE

"The tale begins when I, propelled by deep-seated needs within, ventured forth from my desk to "the facilities," where I was less than amused to discover not merely one, no no, perish the thought, empty toilet paper roll loitering beside the throne, but two, count 'em, 2 forlorn cardboard tubes, both tarrying within that environment well beyond their span of usefulness."

And finally... a man! I'm reading a journal by a member of the male species! I must be slipping. Simply put, Michael makes me laugh. I love his effortless way with words, which enables him to concoct such monstrosities of run-on sentences that you begin to wonder when the last time was that you saw a period. And somehow, that's okay, because it's so crankety funny! I wish I could do that. If I had Michael's life, my journal would rival Biology class on the Boredom Scale. But Michael somehow turns each day into an adventure in comedy worthy of Monty Python.

So there they are. They are a mother, an ex-missionary kid, a high school slave to homework, and an office comedian. They'll make you laugh, cry and squirt soda through your nose... but they'll never make you fall asleep.

Original "ReEntry" concept by Gus () and other DIARY-L participants.