September 2, 2002 (1:01am): I missed the fireworks tonight. Hrm.
In fact, I missed the whole damn Sternwheel Regatta. Not that I've been there in the last DECADE or so, but still.
September 2, 2002 (2:53pm): Geez, nothing's going well today. And I just tripped and fell against the wall, making a big hole in it.
Damn. It.
September 2, 2002 (2:58pm): Oops. Forgot to mention how much I hate federal work holidays, like today (Labor Day).
What are they, really, but an excuse for millions of fat lazy Americans to waste away in front of the teevee? I mean, for me they don't mean happy happy picnics or cook-outs in the park, or frisbee or fireworks. I live in the country. One day's as nebulous as the next.
So, then, why do federal work holidays and Sundays bother me? 'Cause I know somewhere someone is doing something constructive and filling, and I'm left here to bitch about it, 'cause, well, I can't think of a damn thing to do.
September 3, 2002 (1:27pm): Alright. So. I can't go back to school for some time. What to do, what to do...
I reckon I be gettin' me a job. Ain't gonna get me no money otherwise.
But where to work? Let's see, in the ol' newspaper there are ads for part-time work at Auntie Anne's Pretzels, some sushi bar, Salvation Army... Hrm.
This work idea was always more charming when it was far off. Now that's it POW! right here, it's downright repugnant.
September 4, 2002 (10:37pm): Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha...
Ha ha ha. Heh heh.
Ahem.
Look. There's nothing there. Nothing! Nothing at all!
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
September 5, 2002 (12:58am): I haven't been saying much lately. Or at least, I haven't had much depth lately.
But it's only because I haven't had much to say that hasn't been angry. I mean, I could go on and on about what's pissing me off and what's making me wanna punch someone, but after a while, what's it worth?
People think I'm some sort of youthful curmudgeon, and that's not the truth at all. It just happens that in a life like mine, complaining seems to be the most readily available form of conversation.
It's too bad, really.
But it's too difficult to think of something interesting or amusing when you're simply too pissed to care about anything other than what's pissing you off.
September 5, 2002 (2:45pm): Bureaucracy is such a pain.
September 5, 2002 (3:20pm): Good golly gosh, it's beautiful outside today. Almost too beautiful to stay mad today. But I'm trying. All I have to do is think of how everything got blown right out of the plan, and I'm all hyped up again.
Still.
It's awful nice out there.
September 5, 2002 (11:17pm): Someone just washed my white shirts along with some Raggedy Ann doll. Raggedy Ann has red hair. Red dye bleeds in the wash. Bled red dye makes white things pinkish.
Thanks a fucking bunch.
No, it's alright, I have...oh, two other shirts. I'll just flex my monetary muscles, count the change in that Superman peanut butter jar of mine, and buy...NOTHING. I HAVE MAYBE FIVE BUCKS IN CHANGE, AND THAT'S MY ENTIRE FORTUNE.
Sonovabitch.
September 7, 2002 (12:17am): So I went through downtown and got a bajillion job applications today. Filled a few out, but my hand got cramped and I got sick of writing the same references over and over, so I turned those few in and came on home. I have an interview at 2:00pm Monday, so I'll finish these remaining applications and turn'em in then.
I just realized that if I do manage to get enough money to pay off my balance at SIU, it'll be too late in the next year to finish the application process to most other schools. Well, damn. I'm not looking to fuck up, seriously, it's just stupid things like that that come out of nowhere. Hrm.
September 8, 2002 (1:10am): I try really hard not to daydream. Hrm.
September 8, 2002 (11:25pm): I want some cookies. Maybe apple. Or shortbread. Mmm.
Yummy.
September 10, 2002 (4:52pm): I'm so tired...
Actually, I'm feeling alright. Got that sneaking panicky feeling, just a little, but otherwise I'm...okay. I think.
Even so, it's just because I haven't eaten much at all since yesterday morning, and I barely got any sleep last night.
Hrm.
I can't find work. And I'm not being picky. I really cannot find a single job.
September 11, 2002 (6:14pm): I don't feel like writing an entry right now. You write a damn entry right now. Go ahead. Knock yourself out.
It's a blast.
Oh, and today's the one-year anniversary of the World Trade Center terrorist attacks. I'm, um, overwhelmed?
September 12, 2002 (1:21am): So I was supposed to start this job at a toy store tomorrow morning (er, Thursday morning, this morning, what the hell ever). But I was only going to get about 16 hours a week, so I decided not to even start. I mean, I didn't wanna start the job, find a better one, and quit two days into the venture. That'd leave them in a lurch to replace me (ha, as if my absence ever leaves anyone in a "lurch"), and I'd have spent too much money on the damn clothes that would match the store's dress code. 'Cause t-shirts and flip-flops are not acceptable toy store garb, apparently.
So I thought I'd pan out some of the other job possibilities I have. But you know, there aren't actually any job possibilities. What the hell was I thinking?
I can see me now: Ten years from now, I'll have maybe 20 or 30 jobs at which I worked a week or so and quit 'cause I thought something better was on the horizon. But nothing will ever be on the horizon, I'l just have fooled myself a good many times, and I'll never have learned better.
September 13, 2002 (1:46am): About that horizon: There's an interview at Waldenbooks on it, but still. Stupid horizon.
Holy nuts, it's Friday the 13th. How odd. Hope no terrorists use this opporunity to freak the hell out of me. They've been known to do so, from time to time.
September 14, 2002 (3:04am): Look at me, up at 3:04 in the morningtime.
I watched Almost Famous this evening. That movie always reminds me of Cleveland and Chicago.
First, Cleveland. It was a school sponsored trip back in 2000. We went to the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame, etc. We stayed overnight in some hotel, but when we got there I was bored, so I and a friend went back out. We didn't really know what there was to get into, so we were just wandering around, half looking for a movie theater. Two and a half hours later we found a theater that was actually just about three blocks from the hotel. Heh heh.
But it was really cool, 'cause we were just ambling around town. We were all over the place, or at least as all-over as you can be on foot and without any directional sense. And the movie was great. That rock & roll coming-of-age stuff really does its number on me.
Even now, whenever I hear "Tiny Dancer" I can remember that night in Cleveland, and there's a little twinge of regret that the moment's so far past.
Second, Chicago. Last year, another school trip, we went to take the Japanese Language Proficiency Test. The second night in town we were in a hotel room drinking some Japanese beer and rice liquor and just half-watching the movie. Then, as always happens when I'm drunk, we got the feeling to go out and traipse through the corporate suburb we were in (Lisle, I think it was called). So a horde of us headed out, in early December, in the Windy City, freezing our asses off but determined to find more alcohol or something.
My friend Randall and I were pretty well buzzed so we were just going along down the road, but others among us kept stopping to pee on cars or in corporate headquarters' fish ponds, or to steal mail, or hide in bushes, or who knows what. Oh, and we stole lights from Christmas displays. It took over forty-five minutes of walking to get anywhere near a place that would have alcohol, but it was just a mini gas station bereft of anything interesting. By then the inebriation had worn off and we were just dying of exposure (Randall in thin cotton t-shirt and jacket, me with customary flip-flops and sweat jacket), so we winged our way back to the hotel, the same path we had taken earlier now a brand new course in the harsh face of sobriety.
So.
You know, I don't think I had a point to make. And those stories were pretty lax. Still. Whatever. I like Almost Famous.
Sepember 14, 2002 (2:17pm): My horoscope today: "You may find that you need to make a decisive stance on something today. Be confident about whatever way you choose, and try not to get too concerned about the outcome."
That's everyday, you dumbass atrologer. Geez.
September 15, 2002 (3:37pm): It's been raining all weekend. That's an awful feeling. Damp, muggy, hazy. Yuck.
And today's Sunday, so nothing's going my way. Damn damn damn.
September 16, 2002 (5:30pm): I was walking down the street this morning, looking for an attorney's office, when I noticed a girl crouched down in front of a newspaper box. I said to myself, "Hey, she's reading a paper on a sidewalk, she must be interesting." So I started talking to her. Then I remembered I really had to get to the attorney before they went out for lunch, so I politely excused myself. She asked if she could call me sometime, and I said sure, why not. I gave her my number and got hers (her name's Erin, by the way), then she said she had to get to work. I asked her where she works.
Hooters. She works at Hooters.
My jaw dropped like a dumbfounded cartoon character.
I am not lying.
September 17, 2002 (11:02pm): I have a SPLITTING headache, and I'm not sure why. I didn't do anything strenuous today.
It's probably just stress. Seriously, between the stress and the headache, I feel like my mind's going to rip in half.
Like a ripe honeydew.
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September 19, 2002 (12:43am): You know, Brooklyn Bridge's "The Worst That Could Happen" is soooooo sad. Really. That song just gets me...right here.
Anyway, the school won't approve my living off-campus, so odds are I won't be able to work out a way to get back to school any time soon. I keep getting shot down, and it always come around to, "Well, why don't you just get a job and earn the money to pay off the school, then you can go back." Yeah. Uh-huh. I'm gonna work my ass off at some shitty minimum wage job, at about 25 hours a week, for, oh, 36.6 weeks (if I don't spend any money, don't have to buy any food or clothing or medicine, etc.) just so I can go back and be fucked over again? Dammit.
And you know, the worst part is I've just about lost all hope. Really. It's like a rolling depression that comes and goes, but more often than not, it's coming. And I'm just completely inconsolable. Because there's really nothing to do. I have no way out of my predicament. I mean, no one can help me, I've tried everything possible.
I can't even drop everything and leave, because even dropping everything and leaving takes money.
Worst of the worst, though, is that I spent the bulk of my waking hours, which aren't many because of course I want to sleep as much as possible, worrying and complaining. And what kind of life is that?
September 19, 2002 (4:52pm): You know, if I weren't so lucid, I'd swear I was having a nervous breakdown.
September 20, 2002 (5:19pm): Today feels like a bunch of DVD extras. You know, like deleted scenes. Not terrible, just not good enough to be part of the rest.
I mean, if today could be cut up and spread among the rest of the month, it might be okay. But put'em all together and it's just not enough to sustain your curiosity, which is probably why it's best to remove them.
September 21, 2002 (3:04am): Don't think about the future, don't think about the future.
Don't think about the future, oh, and don't think about the past.
Think of neither, and maybe you'll think of something nice to write for a change.
How novel.
You know, I haven't seen any Jimmy Stewart movies for a long time. I think the last one I watched was You Can't Take It With You, and that was waaaay back in last November. I think. Yes.
It was last November, during Thanksgiving break. I stayed at school, of course, and I was watching the movie the night before we all went to Chuckton to play paintball. And I kept walking down to Randolph Hall to make sure everyone was gonna show up the next morning. Didn't wanna walk out at 7:00am for no reason.
Ah, but anyway, I should get those videos out and watch them. Honestly, though, it makes me kind of sad to watch them. Dammit, get over it and just watch'em. They rock. Jimmy Stewart rocks.
Gee, I'm so verbose.
September 21, 2002 (11:29pm): I wonder if Voyager will be on tonight. Hmm. This is the deepest thought I've had all day. I have such high priorities these days.
Anyway, what'd I do today? Well... I can't really remember. I wasn't drunk or stoned or anything, I just don't remember.
I didn't get up till around 2:00 this afternoon. I actually woke up around noon, and I got outta bed, brushed my teeth, washed my face, and all that. But then I looked around and I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do. So I just programmed some songs into my stereo and went back to sleep. I woulda slept far later than I did, but I guess my body just couldn't handle any more sleep. Stupid body.
So I got up and showered. Then I just sat down and spun around in this chair in the living room for a while. I was half waiting for someone to call, but I didn't really expect them to. And they didn't, of course. Anyway, today was like what I said earlier: Not expressly terrible, but it sure wasn't my idea of fun.
So I just sat here and watched too much television. Most of Breakfast At Tiffany's, some Seinfeld episodes I had on tape...
In fact, today was so pointless, I'm not even gonna finish. Just picture some mundane not-worth-doing bullshit, and you'll get the idea.
September 22, 2002 (11:46pm): Pretzel sticks and Vanilla Coca-Cola do not make for a decent meal. Especially the Vanilla Coca-Cola. That stuff is horrid!
Ahem.
At any rate, I've managed to mentally erase most of what I did today. Now that's efficiency for you. The day's not even over and already I've forgotten it. That means whatever happens in the next fourteen minutes won't even occur to me! Damn, I'm good.
September 23, 2002 (3:18pm): I woke up and I had nothing to do, as usual, so I took all the CDs outta my stereo and outta the binders, and rearranged them.
I know you think this is boring, and usually you'd be spot-on. But it was something to concentrate on, and further more it was something I like concentrating on.
I dunno. When I finished I felt a lot better 'cause looking at all my CDs helps me remember people and places and times that I otherwise couldn't recall.
September 23, 2002 (8:03pm): You know, I don't mind having company, in fact I like it alot, but not if it's people I don't know.
I was sitting here earlier, watching The Omen III, when my parents and a couple people they know came home. It wouldn't have been so bad, but they wouldn't shut up. Bah. And they brought home a pizza, but they weren't hungry, so I didn't eat either. I mean, I don't like eating in front of others who aren't eating too. It's rude. And yeah, I actually care about stuff like that. It helps separate me from the likes of you.
Other than that, not much has gone on today. Or, shall I say, nothing's gone "down." Dig?
September 24, 2002 (12:40am): The winter is so lonely. And true, it's barely autumn now, but some thing you can just sense well ahead of time.
September 24, 2002 (1:11am): Yet another late-night installment...
I went outside and found my cat, Blinky, sleeping in a box of old towels. Poor stupid cat. I picked her up and carried her inside, but she bitched and meowed the whole time. Then I got her in here and she shut up. Cats know when to shut up and appreciate the warmth. I think they've got something on us in that respect.
You know, I have been looking for a job. Really. I know each day people see me online, and I'm just goofing off or something. But seriously, I do a lot of bird dogging, looking for something, anything, to do. At some point you just have to realize that maybe it just won't work.
Argh. I hate talking about this stuff all the time.
But still, living in the country, with no automobile at my sole disposal, and few prospects... A job just isn't in range. And that's the way it is.
It seems to me that my life is one of attrition. I just wake up to see what's left in place, which pieces of myself haven't been forfeited just so I can gather enough gumption to get out of bed again.
And that's really not so fun.
September 25, 2002 (3:55pm): What is it about cold weather that makes me feel better?
I mean, I always have a stopped-up nose 'cause of the air pressure, and well, shivering non-stop is never fun. Slushing through snow is hardly a hoot, nor are the painfully-frozen toes. I hate that feeling of waking up and hearing that it's only about 4F outside, and that the daily high will be in the mid-20sF.
And yet.
The physical torture is supplanted by some strange sense of comfort. What the hell is that about?
I suppose I have a lot of interesting memories that took place in chilly weather. None I'll go into right now, but still, that must be it. So on one hand, I hate the razor-sharp biting winds, but on another, it's actually not so bad.
Why would hardship make me feel better?
September 25, 2002 (8:12pm): Okay. My birthday's in two days. C'mon, Fate, do something stupid to fuck it up.
September 27, 2002 (9:49pm): Well, today was alright. But for the third year in a row, it's rained on my birthday. Bah.
September 28, 2002 (6:51pm): I don't know if it's because of the rain clouds or the gloomy haze or what, but today is just the saddest day ever.
Nuts. I don't even think yummy tacos could make this day any good. And that's saying something.
September 28, 2002 (11:41pm): So I gotta get up extra-early tomorrow morning (or at least, extra-early for someone who usually gets up around noon) and take some USPS qualification test. I don't really have to now, seeing as I'm pretty sure I can get back to school in a few weeks, but I figure, I'm signed up for it, and the scores are valid for two years, so why not? It's gonna be a breeze, a joke. So I'll get a killer score and have it next year if I need a summer job. Simple pimple.
September 29, 2002 (1:21pm): Well, that test was stupid. Really. It had sections that testing inane things like spelling and grammar comprehension. Stuff like, "Which is the correct spelling: Gittar, guitar, guittar, or guitaar?" Bah. Nonsense.
Still. It was something to do. Though I'd rather than thing to do had been sleeping in like usual. Nevertheless.
September 30, 2002 (3:35pm): Well, the Business Office at school said I could resume my schooling if I pay about $2400 up-front, which I can do. I think. Shh. Let's not speak too loudly of this, lest Fate lob a fuck-you grenade my way. Again.
Ah ha ha. Good good.
Funny thing is, now that I've gotten things smoothed over, more or less, I don't feel the least bit obligated to give a damn about anyone else's problems. But that's not a good thing. It's like, when you have so much crap to deal with, when it's over you don't wanna think a second about any other problems that could possibly occur, to you or to others.
So yeah, I'm still a nice guy, and I still have the greatest regard for my friends and all, but I got through this by myself, with a tiny bit of help from my parents, naturally, so I don't particularly mind if anyone else is having to claw and bite their way outta their own messes.
Surely, once my fortune reverses I'll care about everyone's problems again, just to sadistically compound my own sorrow. Indeed. But for now... Who cares!
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