March 1, 2002 (1:43pm): I was supposed to work today, noon to 4pm. But I just didn't wanna. I mean, it's nothing that can't just as easily be done Monday. I don't even think I have anything to do at work. Just show up and get paid. I'll wait. Maybe Monday there will be new magazines to check in, or ERIC documents to file, something.
I keep listening to the Hollies' "Jennifer Eccles". It's so much more fun than the Eels' cover. What's funny, though, is that it's the most saccharine-sweet song I can think of, yet back in the 1960s these guys were thought of as rock. Weird. It'd be silly toss-away bubblegum pop today.
March 1, 2002 (5:56pm): I want some steak. No, I want some tacos. No, I want a stromboli...
I'm just hungry. Been hungry all damn week. It's 'cause I was so sick last week. I didn't eat much of anything. Body's gotta restock, I guess.
March 2, 2002 (12:53am): I'm thirsty. I ate too much salt today.
That doesn't sound right. Ate too much salt. Gives the impression that I was eating fistfuls of salt. I mean, the food, normal food, I ate had a lotta salt in it. Whatever. I'm thirsty.
Thing is, my stomach's upset, so if I drink too much water I get all burpy and stuff. Pain in the ass. The weird situations your body puts you in.
March 2, 2002 (11:13am): Sometimes you just know the day's to be best spent entirely in bed.
But! I'm not tired, so I must flee the sheets.
I can't get my big stupid webpage to work. It's a big stupid pain in the ass, and big stupid me doesn't know what to do. I don't think it's my fault. Could be that scrollbar script. I dunno. I just post semi-interesting "monitors" and wonder if anyone's reading them.
I still want a stromboli. If I don't go out for dinner I'll invest $6.25 in one. Yum... Mmm!
Countin' days till the old pawn shop sells me back my saxophone / Then everybody's gonna leave me alone...
I've found that I'm much better at humming than at singing. Just making the noise will suffice. It'll have to, 'cause the vocalization sucks.
March 2, 2002 (6:04pm): Gad... Is today actually the 2nd? I think it is...
Anyway, I wanted to walk down to the gas station to get some Twix, but I'm gonna settle for the Kit-Kat I already have. I have no drive, no ambition. Twix don't mean enough to me to walk through the drizzling, cold rain. Fuck'em!
March 2, 2002 (10:20pm): Man... My stomach is the least sexiest thing in the world.
Oh, and yes, I did invest in a stromboli. Ooh golly! I only ate about a 1/6 of it, though. I'll eat the rest later.
March 3, 2002 (11:46am): Someone in the apartment below is watching Jurassic Park. I can tell 'cause I heard those damn dinosaurs roaring.
Wow, it's really storming outside. High winds and whipping, stinging rain. Ouch. No way in hell am I going out today. Nope. No, sir. Forget it!
March 3, 2002 (2:04pm): I'm so bored. I don't wanna be here. Sheesh.
I have this autobiography of Theodore Roosevelt I've been meaning to read, but the guy was a terrible writer. He goes on for pages and pages about his great-great-great-great-great-grandfather's Dutch heritage, and how for generations and generations and generations his family's been born and bred on Manhattan island. Gah! Who cares, Teddy! You're boring! Get on to San Juan Hill! The Rough Riders! Anything but where your grand-pappy came from!
Still raining. Still windy. Ugh...
March 3, 2002 (8:11pm): I went down to the BP to get some food. I only took $14 'cause I didn't think I'd be getting all that much. But then I got there and saw all kinds of nice things. Hrm.
So I got an armful and went up to the check-out counter. But I got too much. The total? $14.43. (Or something like that.) Twelve cents too much. Damn!
I had to put back a Twix, which just about crushed my little soul. I really wanted that Twix! I hadda settle for a inferior number of candy bars, and I'll be damned if that just didn't ruin the whole trip.
What else did I get? Well... Cheetos, bar-b-q chips, two cans of pork 'n' beans, and, well, Twix. And stuff. Some Coca-Cola.
March 3, 2002 (9:48pm): I don't think people truly appreciate it when I say I wanna work in record store for the rest of my life. I really don't.
Why shouldn't they accept it? I mean, c'mon, it's what I want to do. It's what would make me happy. It's what I'm good at. But apparently, wasting years at college, tossing away thousands of dollars, is only for people who plan on getting big-paying, important careers. Bullshit.
March 4, 2002 (11:38am): It's 14F outside! 14F! Holy hell! I'm gonna die out there! I will!
Okay, no, probably not. Still, it won't be pleasant.
Why am I even going out, then? Two reasons, really: First, I have to work in the library. I was supposed to Friday, but I brushed it off. I'd really be pushing it today if I didn't show. Second, I hate this apartment! It's so damn boring! Argh! I have to get out, see people, stretch my legs!
So... Pains me as it does, I should get going. Hrm. I do not anticipate a happy stroll.
March 5, 2002 (2:21am): It's a real bitch putting this Daily Monitor on my webpage. I don't know why I bother.
No, wait. I remember. Self-aggrandizement. Nevermind. Har har har.
I need a tan. (Spontaneously I decide.)
I should take a class next Mod, but which? Statistics? Egad! No! Math sucks! Um... But that's about all I can think of. Damn! Maybe I'll just enroll then drop the class. That way I'll be down on paper as taking a class, and I'll get to eat in the cafeteria (gee, a treat in of itself!) and I'll be paid to tutor America In The 20th Century. Gaw.
March 5, 2002 (11:42pm): Oh... What do I have to say today? Tonight, rather?
Really, I can't think of much. Oh... I really should start cleaning this place. This apartment, I mean. I will, um... Thursday? Yeah, okay, Thursday.
Spring break is hardly a rocket to the moon. The only up-side is that I can sleep in real late and stay up equally late.
Hell, forget it. I'm going to sleep.
March 6, 2002 (12:58pm): I just got outta the shower, and my skin's all dry. Stupid winter. I'm all itchy and stuff.
March 6, 2002 (7:19pm): There are so many things to do, and I can't sort them out. I need a little book or something to write all this stuff in. But then I'd lose the book, or I'd never locate a pen in time, or some other damn thing. I'd forget, or just think, "Hell, it's so obvious, I'll just remember, and do it later."
March 7, 2002 (2:34pm): Wow, it's the 7th already. I don't know why that's a shock but, gee, it is. Whoa.
Anyway, I want some fried chicken for some reason. And seeing as it's all the cafeteria's been serving this week, odds are I'll get some. Hot damn, huh? Just like *pop!* think of it and you get it. (Provided you think of what they'll be serving and convince yourself that you really want it, not, like, a steak or some Chik-Fil-A!)
Speaking of Chik-Fil-A, I need to find some place to work this summer. But it's awkward. I'd like to do this Upward Bound thing at SIU. But it's from late June to early August. So if I do that I'd have to forget about working in Charleston 'cause I could only work in Charleston from about early May to late June, not really enough time. Some time, yeah, and I'd work if I could, but I digress... At any rate, suffice it to say, I'm juggling Upward Bound and returning to SIU in July, or working in Charleston and not going back till September. Stupid little decisions that manage to trip me up. Common sense shouldn't be so hard to accumulate, dammit!
Or hell, who knows, maybe I'll just go off in some other direction. That usually happens. Then I read old entries in this Monitor and realize how fucking dumb I was. I have no clue what's going on sometimes.
March 8, 2002 (2:58pm): What does it matter? Anti-matter! What does it matter? Underwater!
I still have a headache from last night. I didn't drink much at all, of course, but I'm a little fella. *Frowns* Whatever. It's more economical, not having to drink as much. That's how I rationalize it.
Anyway, I have to fill out this Upward Bound application and turn it in by 4:00pm so I can be turned down as soon as possible. Bwahaha! JOKE AT MY EXPENSE! Fuck.
You know, it makes me really sad when I forget how much I dig ska-punk. The Aquabats, Spring Heeled Jack, the Hippos, Reel Big Fish... Damn, I can't believe I keep blocking them all out. I'm preoccupied with my own private parade of boo-hoo, listening to the Eels (best band ever, but still...) and moping around all year long. But then spring comes back, then summer, and I think, "Whoa! Nifty weather! I need equally or greater nifty music! Ska-punk!"
But, yeah... The Aqubats. Good stuff.
Alright, geez. I should really get this application down to the Administration Building. Whee.
March 9, 2002 (10:39pm): My neighbors are fucking around, making a nuisance of themselves. They're pounding on the walls and the floor. Actually, I'm not sure if some guy's beating the shit out of some white trash girl or what. There's no screaming, so for now I'm just pissed that they're making any noise at all.
I got up and pounded on the wall and shouted, "Knock it the fuck off, already!" They got quiet so I yelled again. They waited a few minutes and started again. Seriously, I'm in the mood to knock on their door and do some pounding of my own. Sons of bitches.
Um... War is so evil. And I am so trite. Ahem, anyway, take Vietnam, for instance. How the hell did our government convince hundreds of thousands of men to go over there and risk their lives? Really, what the hell was it all about? The spread of Communism? Fuck that. You can call me unpatriotic, but Communism is not a threat to our nation, and there's no way in hell I'd risk my life to stem its spread. Nope, forget it.
Oh... But anyway, it just doesn't make sense. Sure, it's romantic to say that you're doing what your country asks of you, but you gotta realize that sometimes countries ask for some stupid shit.
When really, all the North Vietnamese were doing was trying to reunite their country. Would you let some foreign power come into the United States and keep us from reuniting, if split? No. Neither would the Vietnamese, so bite me, on their behalf.
March 10, 2002 (3:00pm): Yesterday: Sunny and warm. Today: Sunny and cold. Nature: Idiot.
I'm just sitting here not doing what I'd wanna do. 'Cause I'm a big stupid guy that way.
Everyone's bringing me down. It sucks. Hrm.
March 10, 2002 (9:59pm): I do not want to get used to going back to class... No, sir. No.
But nevertheless, I have to get up at 7:00 in the morning and plod off to some psychology class. I think it's called "Criminal Delinquency". Sounds interesting, but still... Not in the morning.
March 10, 2002 (10:02pm): Oh, and I didn't pass the Japanese Language Proficiency Test. But who did? What the hell do I care, I'm not even a Japanese major anymore. Pfnah!
March 11, 2002 (7:07am): I don't wanna to go class! It's cold! And I don't even think I'm gonna like this class! Argh!
But I have to go. I have to see if I can tutor someone, and... I just have stuff to do. I can remember anything, so just nevermind.
I'd rather go back to sleep, I tell you. But then, who wouldn't? Hrm... It's an evil temptation. The temptation to forget it all and go back to sleep. 'Cause it's so damn easy. See? The bed's right there... Just hop right in... NO! I CAN'T! ARGH!
March 11, 2002 (5:37pm): Someone pointed this out, and I thought about it, and I deemed it to be thusly true: A person's so much happier to get out of bed when the shades are open and the sun's bright and warm.
Now, yes, that sounds corny, but IT'S TRUE! Think about it!
I'd hop right out of bed every damn morning if the sun were bright and warm and all shining in my face. Makes me giddy. I dunno. Just does.
I have to go study these prospective presidents for SIU. I have to sit in on some student interviews, and I need a few good questions to level at them.
March 12, 2002 (12:21pm): Sometimes I go to bed thinking, "I hope when I wake up I'm someone else; this being me stuff just isn't working out." But when I wake up I'm still me. And it's not so bad, but sometimes, just sometimes... It's easier just not to be than to be myself.
Anyway, I'm pretty sure I'm dropping that Psychology course. Juvenile Delinquency, I think it's called. It's fairly interesting, but I think my school year's pretty much shot. I don't want any more classes. I just wanna leave and not be seen for a while. Yeah.
And I'm not tutoring. Well, maybe. I don't know. I don't really want to, but those 20 hours... Eh, it's a hundred dollars, so maybe. What class, though? Ugh. I have no idea...
March 12, 2002 (12:17am): Just finished filing my taxes and the FAFSA. Good news: I get 269 bucks back. Good thing about being poor, they always give back all the taxes they've taken. Yay! It's like a complete paycheck that I've neglected to pick up. Keen.
But what will I do with $269? Hmm... There are many, many silly little pointless things to purchase. And me being me, I'll prob'ly be tempted to go that way. But!
I think I'll buy a guitar. Seriously. Just plunk down all my cash for something cheap and inexpensive. And finally learn how to play. That's actually a good idea. Hey!
So I went to the Psi Omega Tau formal rush tonight. All ready to go, just waiting to start pledging. Yup. Starts Thursday. I don't know who's going to be my big brother. I know who I don't want him to be... But who knows. Whatever.
Had to help interview some candidate for SIU's presidency this afternoon. Was kinda odd. I always blank when it comes to important stuff. Like, I just get this feeling like, "Eh... Fuck it. I don't wanna be here, really." I was the last to ask a question, so all my questions had been asked in one way or another. I had to make up something point-blank, and I just kept talking and talking... But the guy seemed stymied. Well, either he was stymied or my question made no damn sense and he couldn't answer it. Heh heh.
March 13, 2002 (11:35pm): You know, if all is fair in love and war, is that must be why nice guys finish last? Hmm...
Anyway, I made an entry here about four hours ago, but this piece of crap provider DIDN'T SAVE WHEN I SAID TO! So I didn't save what I've long since forgotten, and it's all lost forever. GOD...DAMN!
Let's see... I think I mentioned that Shawn wants to pledge Psi Omega Tau along with Don, Randall, and I. That's cool. Um...
Oh, I mentioned that I'll prob'ly have to paint the big rock that's on top of a high hill overlooking campus. I said I'd either uproot the rock and bring it down to campus for easier access, or just blow it to bits altogether.
I can't remember what else I said. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!
March 14, 2002 (11:56pm): Oy oy oy... I started pledging tonight.
Now, I'd like to say that I will no doubt be complaining about it alot, but all in all, I think it'll be pretty fun.
Anyway, my arms are sore 'cause I did, like, eight push-ups (ooh). That's more than I've done in years, for crying out loud. Then I carried some beer home from the Cubes. Eeee.
My throat's sore 'cause when someone asks who I am, I reply, "PSI OMEGA TAU, THETA ASSOCIATE, SIR!" Did that a good number of times...
March 16, 2002 (3:19am): Oh, and by the way, since there are only four pledges in our pledge class, they named us after the Beatles (i.e., the Fab Four). I'm George; Randall is John; Don is Paul; and Shawn is Ringo. I like to think that I'm George because all the girls in the 1960s thought of him as the "sexy" Beatle, but it's more likely that I'm George because he was the quiet, unremarkable one. Heh. Makes sense, but I'm still not happy about it.
Anyway, I'm just a little drunk. Not as drunk as Randall, but still... I just don't feel like going to sleep. See, this happens everytime I drink. I get a bit tipsy, my inhibitions drop (that's a lotta inhibitions), and I feel like doing all the things I would never consider otherwise. *Sigh* But even so, I know I shouldn't.
For one thing, it's raining like crazy outside tonight, and I'm so slow when I'm inebriated I'll catch my death in the cold. Also... It'll just be plain awkward when I wake up sober with a headache and have to deal with the mess I've made. Sheesh.
Oh, and tomorrow my fraternity's throwing a St. Patty's Day party, so I'm pretty much gonna do this all over again! Oh joy!
March 16, 2002 (1:10pm): It's getting cold again. And rainy. Nuts. I started pledging and it was warm, so I thought, "Hey, this won't be so bad at all!"
Now it's cold and rainy, so I'm thinking, "DAMMIT!"
I have to go paint that rock some time. But I don't care, I'm not going up there in the rain and the winds. It's just not that important.
March 17, 2002 (5:01am): I am indeed very, very inebriated. Here's to St. Patrick's Day!
I seriously don't remember how the hell I got home. I can only assume I had the presence of mind to walk home, but who really knows?
Wait... I'm going to sleep. Goodnight.
March 17, 2002 (6:26pm): Well... I got a call from Bobby this morning. I was online, so he left a voice mail message. He wanted Randall and me to come clean up the Cube. But there was no way I was gonna. We cleaned it for the party, we weren't gonna clean 'cause of the party. Heh heh. Though we prob'ly created the lion's share of the mess.
All I really remember after relinquishing my bartending duties was watching BASEketball in Eric's room, and Anna had a C-3PO bong.
March 17, 2002 (9:18pm): I really hope no one's painted that damn rock. I don't wanna have to climb up there tomorrow... Well, it's not so bad. It's just that everytime we go up to do it, soon enough it's been undone.
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March 18, 2002 (1:40am): It feels funny to be awake at this hour of the night. Now, yes, yes, everyone I know will spin some great yarn about how they only sleep TWO HOURS A NIGHT! And they'd be downright proud of it, but face it: I'm not like that. Forget it! I need sleep! I like sleep! Lots of sleep! All the time, sleep!
I went to Subway last night, to get a sandwich. I ordered the BMT assuming that it was something like bacon, meat (ham, whatever) and tomato. I thought I'd do some fancy reconstruction and get a BLT. Anyway, the lady behind the counter, overweight with a sneer and lazy walk, took forever to come out from the back and help me. It ticked me off. Then when she came out she started fiddling with other stuff, ignoring me completely.
She finally came over, I asked for a BMT, and she starts pulling out salami and pepperoni and stuff. I wasn't paying attention, like I should have, so I noticed halfway through. I said, "Wait. What's that? Is that a BMT?" She looked up at me with a sigh and a grimace and said, "Yeah, what does it look like?" Forcing a smile 'cause I know I've inconvenienced her, I asked, "Well, what's on the BMT, then?" She said, "Salami, pepperoni and ham." I said, rather pointedly, "But none of that starts with a B, M or T." Randall snickered and so did I.
The shrew said, "Listen, what do you want?" I snapped back, "I want a damn BLT!" She grabbed the meat and crushed it in her swollen paws and pulled out the bacon. She didn't shut up for a second. Every time she went to put something on she showed it to me sarcastically.
The shrew's gonna get hers. Just you wait.
March 18, 2002 (3:16pm): I'd like to leave this town. But I have no money, nor, more importantly, a place to go. Nuts.
Don and Shawn quit pledging. Big surprise (hope they see this). Quitters. Eh, they always messed up the door-knocking, anyway.
I need to go to the grocery store. But it's at the other end of town. And I'm just not up to it. So tonight I'll starve because I'm too tired to do anything right now. Makes sense. Stupid cause and effect relationships.
March 18, 2002 (11:41pm): I crawled forty feet through a storm drain tonight. It was fun.
But my body hurts like hell.
I did some push-ups and ran around the Cubes with a metal folding chair in my hands. Why? Well... Pledging. Which isn't nearly half as fun or rewarding without my friends who quit. I mean, yeah, it's me and Randall, and it's still fun. But... I dunno.
Do I continue? Do I quit? Huh? I don't know. I don't wanna quit 'cause then I'll be a quitter. And I hate it when people back out of what they say they'll do. And I'll just feel like a loser 'cause I won't have been able to finish. Shit.
I need some positive feedback, that's what I need.
March 20, 2002 (1:19am): Okay, the Fab Four have pretty much disbanded. Thus ends my foray into fraternity-ness.
It just wasn't fun. And I didn't really get it, I guess. Besides, I chose a bad time. I have to be getting home and finding a job. I could put it off, but then I'd just be losing that much time. And I don't have 40 bucks for pledging dues, and... No. No bullshit. I'm not gonna give excuses. I just didn't wanna, and the timing was off, etc., so whatever.
On the up-side, though, I've got a shitload of black and white paint. Gonna paint that rock a coupla times for fun. MY NAME! Or WAHOO! Or something.
March 20, 2002 (2:15am): "I denies the allegation, and I resents the alligator!"
Oh ho ho, fun with conjugation.
March 20, 2002 (2:55pm): Everything's miserable today. I mean, it's been raining all day, which never helps. Everything's damp and uncomfortable. And little specks of dirt and stuff keep getting on my feet, which always bugs the hell out of me.
Worst of all, in the laundromat, someone had most of the machines tied up, so it took me twice as long as it should have to do laundry, 'cause I had to use the same machine for both loads I had. Argh!
The dryer, though... That's really got me pissed. A 45-minute cycle failed to actually dry my clothes at all. They're still damp. Yes, I put it on high heat, and no, there weren't too many articles in there. That machine just SUCKS! EVERYONE'S AGAINST ME! I'LL SEE THAT YOU ALL PAY!!!
March 20, 2002 (5:52pm): As I was cresting the hill behind Randolph Hall I looked back and the sky was bright and yellow. Looked very, very nice. So I stood there and stared at it all with squinted eyes. I don't know what to make of it, but as I continued walking home it just got brighter and brighter. I'm flummoxed.
March 20, 2002 (11:00pm): So I started reading this ancient history textbook... Wow. That's a lot of history, you know. Think of it like this: Ancient history is pretty much anything prior to the fall of the Western Roman Empire, or the Catholic Reformation, or some other damn thing. ANYTHING PRIOR to that stuff. Think you've learned it all? Go back one more year, then another, and another. IT NEVER STOPS!!!
Well, it stops when humans stop appearing. Whatever.
March 22, 2002 (12:23am): Omigod, look at all the 2's in the date...
Curious.
I wanna fix some chicken and stars soup, but I'm lacking the rice I usually add for body. Damn!
March 22, 2002 (1:32am): Yee Ping is in a meeting. I don't think I've ever really been in a meeting in my life. Not an important one, at least.
Anyway, I went ahead and made that soup. Mmm... Extra salt compensated for the lack of rice, somehow.
Wanna hear something sad? I forgot about Delaware being a state. I mean, think about it: When someone asks you to name a state, you say California, or New York, or Pennsylvania, or your own state. Who the hell thinks of Delaware? (Other than the native Delwarianites or whatever.)
March 23, 2002 (12:18pm): I fear I must brave the frigid 25F winds to get some food. All the way to the grocery store.
*Sigh*
I have so much to say, but I'm not particularly inclined to say it. No one's ever gonna hear any of this, anyway.
March 23, 2002 (12:44pm): I just remembered the oddest dream I had last night: I dreamt that Clint (from gifted camp) and Bob (duh) were walking past my Cube (apparently this is several months from now). I stuck my head out the window and shouted at them. Funny thing was, there was no porch, and I assume Clint was walking on air. Bob, though, ran right up the wall, like some kinda Spider-Man, and gave me a big hug.
That's all I remember. And there was Louis Armstrong's "What A Wonderful World" playing somewhere. Hmm.
March 23, 2002 (1:01pm): Why must I be so sentimental and dumb and stuff?
I'm moving out of my apartment in a few weeks. I'm keeping the apartment, 'cause I want to store some stuff over the summer, so I won't have to take it to Roane County then back here for the Cube, but for all intents and purposes I'm not living here anymore. Hrm. I've lived here for over a year and a half. That's a LONG TIME for me.
But I guess change is the nature of life, and blah blah, all that shit. Still, it sucks to start something new.
And basically... I don't wanna move all that stuff. Bah!
March 23, 2002 (7:36pm): Some asshole elderly person below my apartment doesn't realize that Animal Planet mustn't be viewed with volume at maximum. I don't really wanna know all that much about the snow leopard of Siberia. Gah!
Okay, I've done the nice American thing and stamped my foot on the floor; then I got down on the floor and shouted HEY, TURN THAT DOWN, PLEASE!!! What happened? The traditional American response: They turned it UP.
Motherfucker, who do they think they're yanking here? I was leaving for dinner, around 4:00pm, so I quaintly placed my stereo speakers on the floor, face down, popped in some Tenacious D, turned the volume to nigh-unbearable heights, put the CD on loop, and walked out. I came back at maybe 10:30pm. Turned off the stereo, was fairly certain everyone in the building hates me, and realized that it was stone quiet. Hee hee.
I woke up this morning to the same fucking thing as yesterday. I promptly stumbled out of bed, saw that it was 7:40-something, put in the Aquabats (Fury Of The Aquabats!, naturally), and did the same.
Just got home. Blaring TV again. Let the bitch have an earful of Tenacious D. Wonder if she likes "Fuck Her Gently"...
Anyway, this thing isn't going off all night.
Now, you might say, "Hey, what about the other neighbors? They're gonna suffer just like you, jerk!" Well... Fuck them.
And why can't I just go downstairs and ask her to turn the TV down? Because. She's fucking old. She should know by now that people don't like hearing their neighbors watching TV. I'm young. I can still cop out under the retarded stupid dumbass clause.
March 24, 2002 (1:54am): Ancient history is so boring. What a stupid field in which to invest one's life. What was I thinking?
It's just that, I can't remember much. I have a very poor memory. Ugh.
Anyway... No, that's it.
March 24, 2002 (9:51am): Some people have been complaining that I don't write seriously enough in this here little monitor.
Well, bite me! This isn't for you. And I do, though, write about serious, dreadful issues.
Like this morning, I put a shirt on, a thermal undershirt, with this cotton/polyester lining, and it's really really staticky. Ooh! That's no fun. It's clinging to me and feels very uncomfortable.
How's that for drama, huh?
March 24, 2002 (2:19pm): Wow, it's a lot nicer today than I thought it would be. The weather, that is. And stuff.
Nice and sunny. Whee! In fact, it's flip-flop weather! Hot dog!
Last year I wore nothing but flip-flops (on my feet) from mid-April till September 27. I remember clearly because it was so odd to be able to do so. But now it's flip-flop season again! Rock!
And a new Reel Big Fish album's out! Double rock!
Think I'll go celebrate with a little Nutella and Nilla Wafers! Wooo!
March 25, 2002 (2:10am): It was so nice today that I didn't even care when it got cold. I just thought, "Well, it was so warm and pleasant, who cares how the day fades out? It hit its stride and I'm okay with that." (Or something similarly stupid.)
March 25, 2002 (11:58pm): Hrm. Do I wanna go home in two weeks, or wait and take another class? Technically, my financial aid's paying for nine classes, and I only took eight this year. So if I don't take another class, next year I'll only get enough aid for eight classes. I think. I dunno. They fuck with the numbers so much at this school...
I dunno. It's just daunting to think that I'll have to spend FIVE MONTHS in Roane County. Goddamn. That's a long time. It really hit when I told Masako yesterday, and she was like, "Wow! That's almost half a year!"
This blows.
March 26, 2002 (2:09pm): I wonder how difficult it is to become a US Ambassador or adjunct or something. 'Cause that would be pretty interesting, I think. Hmm... Damn. It must be tough.
But anyway, I just woke up. At maybe 1:51pm. I wasn't particularly tired this morning, I just didn't have much I wanted to get done. Well, there are probably a thousand things to get done, but nothing I was eager to achieve. I'm so lazy. I'll never get anything done.
March 26, 2002 (10:49pm): I think I ate too much salad. How can one possibly eat too much salad? Well... Eat a lot, keep eating, and you'll figure it out. Especially if you're using a particularly acidic vinegarette. Ew.
Anyway, yeah, my stomach hurts.
March 27, 2002 (1:19am): As I noticed that it's now March 27, I got this uncomfortable eerie feeling, like time was running out. And then I tried to understand just why that was a bad thing. Then I got this feeling, like I was try to stand in a fast-running stream, uttering, "Wait... Wait! Hold on!"
At any rate, I don't know if it's the music I'm listening to (Ryan Adams, for the record), but I've got this feeling that I'm just about to do something really good. Like I'm about to embark on a new, redefining chance. But I know it's all bullshit 'cause we're all just victims of our own nature, thus I'm gonna fumble 'cause I can't do anything with any degree of common sense or aptitude till it's done and gone.
Still... I don't know. Blame it on spring and the charming weather. I'm not self-sabotaging or anything, but it would be a shock indeed if I accomplish much that I'm proud of. How much time am I gonna waste just watching TV or whining about how everyone else is busy? Am I gonna get a job I enjoy, or just get stuck at McDonald's ('cause even Taco Bell is too lofty a goal)?
This just sucks!
March 27, 2002 (12:15pm): I should've gotten up earlier today. But for what? Lunch? Nah.
Oh, shit, I just remembered I was gonna help Tina with that daycare Easter egg hunt thing. DAMMIT! She's gonna hate me. I forgot to help with something last Friday too. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!
Still, I didn't feel like getting up at 10:00am, getting ready for lunch, going out, eating, waiting four hours in the library (with nothing to do but study, oh no!), then eating dinner. And it would go just like that because I have nothing else in the world to do, and I don't have a car. Or much money.
But that's just me whining.
Mmm... I have grapes. Think I'll go eat the rest of my grapes and watching the rest of The Philadelphia Story.
March 27, 2002 (11:33pm): I keep underestimating the fact that, if I had the means, I wouldn't be here. It would be so easy to leave. And I would.
What do I mean? Well... I don't like it here. I'm not myself here. And everywhere else I know is just the same. It's gotten so dreadfully dull and empty being me, I wouldn't hesitate to start over. Just cut ties with life here and throw it away, and try again.
March 28, 2002 (6:33pm): Hrm.
March 29, 2002 (12:52am): I'm actually eager to get back to Charleston and look for a job. It'll be nice to have some task at hand once again.
Job hunting in a city, nay, a town like Charleston is difficult, though. There are very few places hiring, and those that are are shit jobs like telemarketing and fast food. But work is work, and I've resolved to do it. My last string of jobs, a couple years ago, were pathetic. I didn't stick with them, and I didn't have half the responsibility I do now.
(Okay, start the stop-watch; we'll see how long it takes for me to chuck it all and waste the summer like I did last year, eating Kettle Korn, listening to Rufus Wainwright, getting baked in the rain, and playing Tetris.)
This Israeli-Palestinian conflict is really getting to me. I can't explain, though. Why? Why some affair halfway around the world, between two peoples with whom I have no affiliation? Hard to say. I'd like to think that it's just a general concern, or a heartfelt wish. I just want to help.
March 29, 2002 (3:15pm): Oh my stars and garters. I have to admit that, on a day like this, sunny and breezy and beautiful, I can't seem to care about my problems. It's just impossible, and I don't really give a damn.
Sure, I don't have any money, and my summer job (or lack thereof) is gonna suck, and I don't have a girlfriend, and blah blah blah... But who the hell cares! I can go outside and play frisbee! I can do whatever the hell I want! Well. Kinda. But still!
So I'm just sitting here eating some almond M&M's, making a mix CD of sunny ska-punk songs. It's what I do with a degree of talent and inclination, so why fight it?
March 30, 2002 (11:28am): Oh, what a beautiful morning, oh, what a beautiful day...
It's still only about 50F, but I've got all the windows open 'cause I know it's gonna shoot up to at least 70F again. It was yesterday and I woke up with all the windows shut, sweating like an idiot. I won't be caught off-guard again.
Geez, it's so sunny the rain's already dried up and gone away. It was raining fairly heavily last night. Wow.
Well, anyway, I gotta get dressed and head out to lunch. Whee!!!
March 30, 2002 (10:42pm): Hrm. I drank just enough to make my eyes hurt. I don't even know how much that is, really. Not enough to be really drunk, but just enough to make my eyes sensitive...
None of this is scientific, mind you.
And I smell baked beans again. But that's prob'ly just these bar-b-q chips.
Maybe it's 'cause I didn't drink enough water afterwards. Usually I do and nothing much happens, hangover wise. Hmm...
March 31, 2002 (12:47am): Okay, I'm not drunk, so don't assume so after the following entry:
Isn't "Afternoon Delight" the fucking coolest song ever? I mean, really! It rocks so hard!
Okay, yeah, so it's kinda hokey. It's the Starland Vocal Band, what do you want? But think about it: It's all about making whoopie. And it's really hardcore about it! "Rubbin' sticks and stones together, make the sparks ignite, and the thought of lovin' you's gettin' so exciting..." C'mon!
Anyway... Yeah. I'm pretty fucking bored. Did you notice?
SKY ROCKETS IN FLIGHT! AFTERNOON DELIGHT! AAAAAAAAAAAAFTERNOON DELIGHT!
March 31, 2002 (2:03pm): Easter is so stupid...
Anyway, I'm just wondering if the cafeteria will be open this evening, and if so, what will they serve? Hmm. Tony's a decent guy (he's in charge of the caf), so he may have ordered a ham or something.
Ah... I was study some history today, but I woke up at 11:00am, put some more songs in the download queue, and returned to bed right away. Just woke up a few minutes ago.
This sucks. And the weather's cold again.
March 31, 2002 (5:30pm): This day hasn't been very productive. Considering I've only been awake three and a half hours, that's no surprise. Still.
Ah... I didn't go to dinner afterall. So it doesn't matter how nice Tony was today. I just ate some pizza rolls and refused to go out into the drizzling rain. I will tomorrow. At least then I have the incentive of picking up a paycheck. And maybe even cashing it, if I'm that daring.
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