If all goes well, this should be the day I move all my worldly possessions into my new apartment. Though to be truthful, my original day was sometime in the middle of last month, and ever since I attempted to lay out a specific date for the move, stuff has... crept up on me, forcing me to delay the event. So I'm not putting all my faith in this particular day.

The new apartment-moving-in thing is neccesary though. The rent has already been paid, and the utilities have been taken care of, so it's just a matter of loading a moving truck up with muh stuff, and shipping it to downtown Vancouver.

I haven't been posting on E2 for a while because of a lack of inspiration, a lack of motivation, and a lack of caffination. But seriously, I've just been busy with other sites, other projects, stuff I should have finished but I've been putting off in order to taken care of other things I should have finished a month ago... *sigh*...

Today, March 24, 2001, I have finished Grim Fandango, a deliciously emotional adventure game by LucasArts. It's not very long though, and the replay value is low, but it was still fun exploring the created world within.

On my desktop for the last three hours has been the webcam visage of 'Miz RedHead', hailing from mizredhead.com, of all places. Perky lass, indeed. Also, I have been listening to Art Bell online tonight, for a change. His show today, he decided to make one of his call in lines the 'Anti-Christ line' and the other his 'Time Traveller line'. Results ranged from hilarious to disturbingly believable, but Art remained calm and staid as always.

Windows 98 uptime (yes I KNOW the joke) has been 5 hours, 48 minutes and 17 seconds.
Nothing to do today.

Maybe I'll get up and go to the post office.

Maybe I'll go bowling.

Maybe I'll go to the Armory and fence for a while.

Maybe I'll just sleep.

I'll probably have to meet with my CS 373 group at night to work on a stupid project, but there's oodles and oodles of hours before then.

Until then, Everything 1 and I rest in peaceful slumber together.

Well. Given what came to pass this weekend it's confession time, I suppose. And what better a place than the void of (semi-)anonymity that is E2?.
Here's the rundown, in no particular order:
  • I drank too damned much again this weekend. This is nothing new, and there might be no reason to mention it except that it's integral to all the other stupid, horribly unprincipled things I did this weekend. The bottle count includes two (2) fifths of Wild Turkey, two (2) fifths of Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum, as well as an indeterminate number of beers of various and sundry nature.
  • I abused pharmaceuticals this weekend. Specifically those in the group of anti-anxiety drugs, known to the technical-minded as benzodiazapanes. They include Xanax and the like. When consumed with alcohol, they tend to produce an altered state of consciousness expressed rather accurately by the equation ca = d * (dn!), where d is the number of drinks consumed and n is the number of pills consumed. Science has yet to provide us with the alternate equation when n is crushed to a fine powder and consumed intranasally. This is how I consumed n on the nights in question. This is also a severe violation of my Policy Regarding Drugs and Their Use, and something of which I am rather ashamed. The only reason you're reading this is that there is no priest avaialable at this time; since I am Catholic all the appropriate clergy are in the bars trying for all they're worth to get laid.
  • I slept in the bed of a (somewhat) random girl on Friday night. There was the inevitable necking and heavy-petting, but no out-and-out-sex. Thank God. I believe there was a mutual acknowledgment of the fact that it was entirely meaningless, which is why this counts as a confession rather than a relation of a mere event. It left me feeling horribly empty, and, as though that weren't enough, the girl's roommate is someone I strongly suspect to harbor an unhealthy obsession with me. All this, of course, was a direct result of alcohol consumption.
  • An old friend came into town this weekend. Well, actually, she showed up out of the blue. And invited herself to stay at my place for the weekend. Which would have been fine, except that's she's fucking crazy. Just plain hard to deal with. Unless I'm drunk. So that, at least, was convenient, since I spent the bulk of the weekend drunk. This is a wonderful example of a case of the chicken or the egg. She also supplied me with the pharmaceuticals in question. We also ended up sleeping together. As in sex. As in Jesus-Mary-and-Joseph-what-in-the-ever-loving-motherfucking-blasted-bloody-hell-was-I-thinking? Answer: I wasn't. Result: She takes emergency contraceptives and is incapacitated with nausea for an entire day and well overstays her welcome (which was worn out before she arrived). I was made horribly uncomfortable because she couldn't seem to figure out that, based on my profuse apologies and general inability to make eye contact the morning after, she should make herself scarce. I hope to defuse the ire of feminists (I consider myself one, by the way) by saying that she (unlike me) thought of this as (and I quote verbatim) "...no big deal. Things like these happen, and I'm at least glad it was you and not some complete stranger." So I ended up spending last night at a friend's house because she seemed to have every intention of sticking around yet longer in spite of the horrible suffocating pressure that slowly choked all the worth out of my life as the Oscars progressed.
  • My ex-girlfriend told me last night that she doesn't respect me. She has apparently been saving this revelation for some time, but felt the need to purge herself of it because she was drunk. The trouble is, I'm not sure I disagree with her assessment of my character. I'm not going to go into her diatribe in detail, because it would involve an overly large writeup in and of itself. Suffice it to say that she called into question whether or not I am "a man of my word" (although I must point out that I have never claimed to be a man). Serious existential crises ensued. As a result of her conversation, I am seriously considering a life of sobriety. It should also be stated that I am two-and-one-half-sheets to the wind at this writing, so I am also considering Alcoholics Anonymous. Seriously.
  • I got a speeding ticket on Saturday morning. 64 in a 50. I cannot decide if this is a drop in the bucket or the straw that broke the camel's back. Or might break it.

On the other hand, I'm still breathing. And warm. And my belly is full. And I live in the most prosperous nation on earth. And I am receiveing an education that exceeds that of most other people in said nation, not to mention the world.

Ah, well. All's well that ends well, I suppose. But I'm on the edge of my fucking seat, not to mention a few other edges. But I'm holding on.

Sort of.

This angst-filled rant brought to you by seven Budweisers. Still the king of cheap beers.
Dear god, my ribs can't take it anymore.

Rehearsal every night from 6-12 (or close to that), and full dress-- this means restricting, suffocating, rib-crushing corsets for 6 hours straight. And I wondered why I wake up sore every morning...

Apparently buses in Baltimore suck. I had to be at class at 1 today, as we were having an important chapter test in Italian... went out to the bus stop at 12:15, just in time to catch the 12:20 bus. Well. The bus turned the corner-- I stepped to the curb, made sure it was the 11 and not the 3, and got my change ready-- it sailed right by me. What the fuck? I looked at the sign at the bus stop. Yup, #11. Take a cab? Nope, don't have cash. Walk? Yeah, and make it there just in time for rehearsal to start. So I crossed my fingers, and waited for the next bus, which did happen to stop for me... but I completely missed my Italian test; not to mention, the teacher is a bitch, and I don't think she'll understand. Ah well... I guess that's how life goes.

Finally made it to school, went to my theater class, and then-- joy of joys-- English! We discussed Auden's Musee des Beaux Arts, and all doped up on cold medicine, I sat daydreaming and writing my teacher crappy poetry:

dark dark dark in my eyes
licking up the stark
white and shadow dust of your face
burning flesh and joint and limb
your eyes, through mine-- blue
coal flames in a field of night
pieces of light reflecting
Oppen, Auden, Williams
and all the understanding of human suffering within


And then I sat through six hours of light cues...

My high point of the day was definitely walking downtown to see if we could see any movie crews or anything for Matrix 2. Although we didn't see Keanu Reeves or Carrie-Anne Moss, we were treated to a filming of a black truck-like vehicle (an "Escalade"?) with a camera right in its window, and inside it, a couple of freaky-looking white guys, with grey dreadlocks (that were white on the bottom), who were wearing silvery-tan suits and wielding automatic weapons. We even got to hear the gunfire as they zipped around the corner (okay--they didn't zip. The whole deal was on a trailer bed pulled by another truck.). I got a better look at one of the guys later--artificially high forehead and Neo-style sunglasses.  

The cops, who seemed to be enjoying themselves way too much, were talking about an earlier scene in which a vehicle plunged straight for the newsstand on Broadway street sort of near BART, and how the guys inside dove for cover. A handler said that the movie people have bought out the entire block (it's not a block, really, more of a wedge) at 16th and San Pablo, where Veronico's cafe was.

I'll cruise around tomorrow after work, too. I probably won't get lucky again, but I *will* have my lousy no-zoom digital camera with me.

Oh! Hey! I'm probably going to WonderCon, guest again of Trina Robbins. What a cool woman and artist she is. David Mack, Geoff Darrow, and Sergio Aragones will be there, along with a bunch of people from TV shows past and present (Julie Newmar, etc.) and some random stuff like Playboy Playmates ("..."). Surely some noders will go? www.wondercon.com --it's cheap! ($12 for one day, half the cost of Fanime Con.)

The above stuff about Matrix got into Ain't It Cool News today. Neat! But remember, you saw it here first.

12:54

Already panicked =(

The machine made strange, strange noise so I powered it down.

Well, seems to work now. Fsck errors from powerdown only, nothing crashed?

That's it, I think it's time to get reiserfs or something. Moving the vast image archives and the Downloaded Terabytes to CD-ROM would be pretty nice, too...

Time to face the even more challenging challenges of the day.

20:26

Way too cool day.

As some of you may have noticed, I did some OO programming in Commodore 64 BASIC. Does someone hand out The Most Excessive Overkill Application of OO Paradigm Awards? Would I qualify??? =)

I think I could now use a modern, fast SCSI disk. And a CD-RW drive to make backups. I currently back up my home directory on the second hard drive, and this is sort of annoying. I should just get that terabyte RAID that was listed in Broadcast 2000 system requirements once... =)

01:15

Dammit! MTV3 has moved The X-Files deeper and deeper to the night, and show FreakyLinks on the old place of X.

Speaking of X, is the next X-Men movie going to be called "X11-Men" or something - more use of Linux as the rendering platform? =)

Interesting how my mind wanders both in sleep and in the waking world. More interestingly, its interesting how I can walk around, with my head down, without hitting the wall, both metaphorically and physically. I guess I'm just lucky. Or people just know to walk around me because I look psychotic. How I ponder how the world works when they only give a crap when they believe that you are becoming delusional or pose a threat to them. How wonderful.

Again, my day starts after midnight. Coming back from bubble tea, I begin to go home. I call my lady friend, thinking that maybe she could come out and say hi for a moment. Ring. Phone rings. Ring. Her phone rings some more. Guess she's asleep. How wonderful. When people need you, they expect you to be there. When you need them, how ironic that they are undeniably unavailable. But I'm calm. I spent the late night with a lovely young woman and she calmed me down. How interesting. The only thing I remember is "Gimme the ball". Bubble tea ball I mean. Stop thinking dirty thoughts.

Then back home. Ring. Back on the phone. Back on the computer. I come home, looking around for any form of conscious life, but I hear the eerie silence of the wind, seeping through the open window. Slowly, I took off my shoes, place them messily by the kitchen, and walk into the darkness and sit down. With my phone in my ear, and my keyboard in my lap, what else would I need? Near 4, I wake up my friend. She's asleep. I try again. It works this time. I help people register into UBC. I ponder sometimes about how many saps are there like me in the world compared to the number of manipulators. Maybe I should grow a bloody backbone.

Once again, I try to sleep, with the intention of just dropping into my bed and succumbing to the tiredness of my mind and my body. Alas, poor me. My eyelids close yet twitch. My body lies quietly, yet shake. I quiver, yet not at the cold but at the anxiety. This anxiety attack would be one of many today. After a while, the universal creator feels pity for me and allows me to drop into unconsciousness due to the seizure like attacks. Who doesn't want to sleep like they've had a seizure? Not me...

I set two alarm clocks. Knowing that I might miss another day of school due to oversleeping, I huddle into a ball, hoping that springing into action from the alarm would waken me enough to get up. Ring. Alarm one. I send it flying into the wall. Ring. Alarm two. I ignore it. Ring. It flies into the wall. I go back to sleep. What a great way to throw money away. Damn. I still have to fix them too. I guess thats what UBC engineering teaches you. How to fix broken alarm clocks because you can't wake up properly and throw them against harder objects. Newton's second law, eat your heart out.

10 am. Ring. This time its my cell phone. I realize that I've missed class so I pick it up. I hope its not the professor. Moshi moshi. Its one of my lady friends. Screaming. Threatening. Another nice way to wake up in the morning. Maybe I'm dreaming. Apparently, I've concerned her lately because she thinks I'm suicidal. Hmm. We'll see. She threatens to kick my butt if I commit suicide. Mental note. Don't kill yourself because someone is going to kick your butt when you can't feel it. Whoops. Forgot it already.

Another phone call. Its my other friend. Looking for me. I love it already. I feel wanted. I would give her a hug (amongst other things but that's for another time) but I can't. I fall back asleep.

The sun shone brightly in my eyes. It reflected into the tv screen, into my eyes. Damn planetary rotation of the Earth around the sun. Damn the laws of physics. Feeling like I've been hit my lightning, I slowly crawl onto the ground, hoping that I can get up by the time I get to the washroom. Otherwise, I would have to brush my teeth with toilet water. Yum. No gingevitis here.

I go to work. Rat races. I'm the fattest rat here, and since no one can pass I lead the pack. I feel the pressure here. Shivering hands. Dropped clipboards. I think I have a problem here. After trying to calm myself down by popping some Mentos in my mouth, hoping that the "Freshmaker" can make me cool like the commercials, I was off work and on to home.

Leaving my cell at home, I silently walk towards the bus stop. Its been a while. Noticing the world from the eyes of an ant. Looking up at the sky, nothing blocking the celestial bodies from glaring their lights onto their loyal subjects. With Mary J. Blige in my discman and the world at my command, it seems that the day has found a good point. Until I realized that the next bus would be 30 minutes away. Thats okay. I can just sing to myself while I wait at the bus stop. Another brand new low. To sing to yourself that "Love is all we need to make everything complete" makes me want to kick my own butt into the ground.

My sister picks me up at the bus stop. I didn't call her but she was nice enough to pick me up anyways. I appreciate it now but didn't give a crap before.

I step into my humble abode. I place my jacket neatly on the hook by the door. I punch the door. Everyone looks at me funny, then they scream. I change out of my Ikea uniform. I change into my "thug" clothing, complete with bandana. I'm ready to take on the world. I walk out of the door, with cell phone in ear. I call my friend. I go grab a slurpee. I go grab some seafood congee. Home I go. I lost a couple of trillion brain cells from this endeavor. I feel smarter already.

Now I'm home. On the phone once again. I release myself. I become what I have become. To be content with the fact that talking on the phone is what my life has become. Voices become my soulmates as I'm not worthy to be one with the actual people.

I feel no remorse for what I have done in the past nor should you feel pity for me for what I'm about to do. I feel no fear and can look death in the eye. I feel that life has dealt with me unfairly yet I have no choice but to try to even the match

I whisper words in the wind, hoping that you would hear them. The wind creates sounds that I perceive as your voice, telling me that you don't love me. Yet, to me, at least for the meanwhile, its good enough. I have no choice. I look for a reason to stay. You are a reason to go and a reason to stay. I've been in the light too long. I can no longer see clearly. I will go back into the darkness. At least there I know where I'm going, where I'm heading. There is no difference, no direction in the darkness. Lead me to you. If you want me, I will not go into the light. Come find me in the darkness. Then, can we be together, frozen in time.

15:11

*yawn*

I am a complete wreck today.

Late last night, Reko challenged me to create a silly bit of gfx as a sequel to something he had done before. I knew accepting would result in a lack of sleep and major zombism today, but maybe that half-a-joint had reduced my knowledge of what's good for me and what isn't.
So I twiddled with Photoshop for a good while, and eventually got the thing finished.
And here I am. It's no exaggeration to say I am struggling to keep my eyelids from crashing down like a ton of steel on Jupiter. My gray matter seems to be working at 25% of its normal speed (and that, my friends, is slow!) and I'm yawning my jaw off every five seconds. With the little motivation for work I usually possess destoyed by the severe lack of energy, I'm just staring at my monitor waiting for the clock to reach 16:00, hoping no boss will come to me with an urgent task to perform.

Since I did manage to gather 6 hours of downtime last night, a big part of my weariness and constant yawning must come from the lack of proper ventilation in the office. We had lunch in the building today, instead of walking across downtown to eat elsewhere. Apparently the short time spent outside really makes a difference.
According to our bosses, we'll move to our new facilities in a two weeks. Which in reality means we still have a month or more to go in this dungeon. Ahh, the joy of anticipation...

Btw, most of the guys didn't even think the picture was funny.
All this for nothing?! :)


15:43

A weird thing I forgot to mention..
Since our offices are located right next to those of a local ISP, we get a lot of people coming in and mistaking us to be their staff. We have used signs, posters and unpassable obstacles on the hallway, but they still walk past the ISP's offices to us every now and then.
Today, a woman came in looking for someone. She looked a little lost, so I assumed she was looking for the other firm's people. Wrong. She came over to me and said she was looking for a store selling keyboard covers. You know, the things at least 7 people around the world use to protect their keyboards for dust and stuff.
This woman - obviously not a worker here - entered these offices deep inside an office building to ask if we sold keyboard covers. WTF? How many small local ISPs work as retailers of computer accessories from their very tiny facilities?
Lots of strange people in this world. Which is why I'd never work at tech support.

Every Monday is Therapy Monday. I hate Mondays. Thank god for daylogs. I went to therapy last night (duh). Every time I go, I get cold chills during the session that get worse and worse until my teeth are actually chattering together when I walk out the door. It always feels freezing outside and I stumble to the car, barely able to move, I'm so cold.

Anyway, I told off my therapist about the way she called me last week. I've been furious at her, my abusive mom, my molester grandfather, my ex-boyfriend who I still love, and I think that's it.

She basically called me to tell me there were problems with my bill and my insurance company. But first she asked how I was doing, rather then just get to the point. So, since I had just seen her the day before, and I had had a hellacious session, I thought she was calling to offer me a second session that week, or was truly worried about me.

Of course, she was just calling about the stupid bill. Confirming my new belief that all people are just in a relationship for what they can get out of it.

Now I realize that she IS in it for the money, duh, that's no problem. But I don't need phony sympathy from my therapist (who has never called me before no matter how bad the session) when she is really calling about a bill. And I just don't believe she really cares about me! So I don't want her to act like she does. That's what pissed me off, she was acting like so many mature adults, being phony and hypocritical about stuff.

Which is why I don't trust them, and I'd rather spend time with teenagers and children, because I believe they tend to be more open and honest with me. I don't know if it's true, but I've received thousands and thousands of incidents of more pain and betrayal from adults who supposedly loved me than I ever have from any children or teenagers.

Anyway, she told me she thought I had a problem with scripts. That I basically wrote a script in my head about what I expected people to do, and if they didn't live up to it, then I would be disappointed. That pissed me off. She also has told me that I'm rigid, and tend to see things in black and white. Well, DUH-HUH!! I have MPD, bitch, what the fuck do you think? That I don't have any goddam problems? Stupid bitch. I have no idea what she is talking about, scripting my life, because when I asked about what I thought would be an example, she said no, not really. So I don't fucking know. And right now - don't really care one bit.

I hate this integration shit. If I could do it any other way, or not do it and still be a functional human being, I sure as shit would. This is so painful, it's like compressing the pain of at least half of my entire life into a few months. It hurts way more than I ever thought it could possibly hurt. I will probably lose everyone who ever cared about me in my life except my children, who I have evilly bound to me in a Satanic plot called motherhood.

Well it's been a while since I've noded a daylog. I try to keep them positive hoping that one day my sons or their children will read them and recall fond and happy times and come to know a little more about their family history

This week Dad invited me to lunch at the Gourmet of China. My Uncle Charlie and Aunt Day Alva were in town and we were all very entertained as the young Korean waiter flirted shamelessly with my eightysomething year old aunt! Aunt Day related that she never could tell her dad (as strict Southern Baptist) how she got her first teaching job by dancing with a school principal and whispering in his ear as to how much she would like that position ...he whispered back, The job is yours. She was a governess for a family at the time and her employers had decided to teach her how to dance. Dad too told of how a friend of his had to sneak him out to a bar (the devil's workshop according to Grandpa!) and teach him a dance called I put my foot out if I recall the name correctly /msg me if you know the right name T'would make an interesting node:)

I had worn a pearl necklace surrounded by a tear drop strand of gold. Dad had given it to me as a young girl but I couldn't recall when. He smiled when I showed it to him and told us this story;

When I was stationed in Vietnam remember I got R&R and I met you in Hawaii. The week before I flew into Bangkok and picked out a piece of jewelry to give you for each of the seven days we'd be there. I gave you a fire opal which you claimed to be your favorite! This pearl, a princess ring ...I can't remember the rest, but about the third day I heard you and your sister whispering in the corner wondering if I was going to give you jewelry every day!

He laughed and smiled fondly as he told us all. He's not one to retell the horrors of war. He has only one picture of a plane that had been shot down, it was a KC-135 and he had friends who perished on it....other than that his pictures and stories are all about the culture and wonderful people of Vietnam. He would take Mountainyards and Vietnamese out of the war zones and told of how when nervous the Vietnamese women (so scared because they had never flown in an airplane!) would put a bit of something that smelled like oil of wintergreen on their fingers and rub it gently on their necks ..... and how this wonderful smell would fill the airplane when the doors closed up and they took off.

Back to Hawaii.....most of you might have seen Hawaii Five-O and the hotel they show in the opening song was the Illikai. (I've heard since it's been torn down, but not too sure) THAT'S where I got to stay ! It was wondrous and because a lot of military went on R&R there from the ummm ahem the Vietnam Conflict there were many celeberties there to entertain them. The first thing my nine year old self did upon checking into this glamorous place was back up from the front desk.... and fall kettle over teacup leaving a jumble of luggage in my wake. Suddenly a well tanned brown arm reached down and helped me to my feet the man laughed amiably asking if I had been hurt. What a goof I felt like I had plowed over Mr. Don Ho's luggage . Barbara Eden was there along with Larry Hagman doing a two part episode for I Dream of Jeannie. (you can still catch it in reruns) I could see them filming in the pool from our room so my sister and I spent some of our time swimming in a second pool which was quite unique. At the deep end, much to out girlish delight was a portal under the water. Imagine our surprise when we swam down there and looked in to see a man making funny faces at us! Of course our curiosity was peaked so we wandered through the hotel and found our funny spy was a bartender in an underground bar! (Where Don Ho was appearing oh my the poor man!) I told him I loved to watch I Dream of Jeannie so he said, Here's a secret....Barbara Eden gets her hair and make up done at 4:30 in the morning at the hotel beauty salon....and I hear she's a adores little girls. So I was up and with autograph book in hand intrepidly making my way down to the salon before daybreak. Miss Eden was just so very kindly and approachable and I was delightfully starstruck I can't even begin to recall what we talked about.... for the 30 minutes or so it was just her and I! We ended our visit with Dad at a luau on the beach. He left at the end of seven days to go back to Cam Ran Bay to finish his tour of duty and I went home to wait.....
The LORD said, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.
Isaiah 40 :15-16

Devotion

I suppose things aren't meant to be, I dream of a different reality, with different people, where the focus is on having fun rather than working towards the common goal. A possible excitement of waking up everyday to a different reality would be interesting. Imagine being someone new every day, having a different purpose to fulfill, and then to move on. Maybe this is what we should make our current reality, as it would appear it is only what we make it.

Life isn't about working for others, Life is about having fun and being happy. E2 helps me to be happy, it presents me with so much information from so many different people, for the people by the people. It is nice to contribute in the relatively small way that I do, to be part of a group of people that aren't working towards a goal that cannot be seen.

Sometimes, we have to focus on what is good, but we also have to focus on what is bad.

If I talked like this at that place, I would be accused of trying to seem intelligent, that makes me sad. I am not here to portray an image of intelligence, I am simply here to learn in the hope that the learning will in some way make me a better person.

Apparently my friends aren't laugh at me, but with me. I don't recall laughing in the first place. Grow up, not everything is about you.

What if I don't want to be a part of the society that is my country, what if I don't want to be part of the human race but yet I still wish to exist.
I am forced to comply.

I have lost the ability to node anything but daylogs, nevermind.

It's all a matter of opinion

I discovered something about myself today.

I mean, I'm always discovering things about myself... that's what life's all about really, so that statement is probably not a shock to you at all.

But it shocked me. I cried. If you cry when you make a discovery it's gotta be something pretty fucking important.

Crystal fucked me up. That's what I discovered... in soooooo many ways.

You see, I think, by nature, I take care of people. I'm a caretaker. I like to have people depend on me, and I like to make sure that they're okay, and that they have what they need, and that they have the inspiration and the empowerment to fullfill their dreams.

And Crystal was my first. My first real charge. I loved her and I protected her and I supported her and I encouraged her.

And then, the worst thing that could happen to any caretaker -- she died. The ultimate failure.

I failed.

I failed as a mother, as a legal guardian, as a protector, and as a friend. I let her die. It was me. I should have known where she was that night, what she was doing. Why wasn't she with me? Why wasn't she at my house?

Because I kicked her out. Evil bitch that I am expecting her to work.

And I'm doing it again.

First it was Justin, I took care of him. He worked but he didn't make much money, so I made sure that he was comfortable and happy and inspired and I let him follow his dreams of being a screenwriter and a director and I did a good job.

And then there was Aaron. Aaron and his sweet search for his identity... he couldn't be himself at home. He needed a place to escape to, where no one would judge him or badger him. He didn't make much money either and his parents weren't giving him enough to survive so without me he would have been at home for a long time. I helped him, I took care of him.

And now it's Matt, my darling Matt. Matt has such passion and such love for music, and he wants to be a musician. But he's so misunderstood. I'm the only one that understands, that believes in him and that gives him the hope and the strength to do what he loves to do. I take care of my Matt.

One by one, I'm replacing her. Not replacing her, but making up for it. I failed once, give me another try. I can do it this time.

I won't let them die.

I'll put my heart and soul and life and body into it, and I'll sacrifice my personal space and privacy and alone time and I'll give things up and martyr myself so that they can live.

So that they can be successful and happy.

Again and I again I bring them in, and I support them and love them and encourage and protect them. I can erase my mistake with Crystal, I can prove that I really am a good mother. I really can take care of people, I swear. I'm not a bad person.

I didn't mean to kill her.

Alot has happened since my last daylog (2 days ago, I believe).

On Monday (March 26, 2001) I went to a Free Radio Asheville meeting at a local coffee-shop called Vincent's Ear.
First, Free Radio Asheville(FRA) is an illegally run radio station running on the frequency 107.5 FM (right now) over the Buncombe County, North Carolina area, I could give you lots of little facts about FRA, but I don't want to, because I don't know who on E2 is affiliated with theFCC.

Plus, right now I'm kind of afraid of the government, after reading a book about how David Koresh and his peacefull cohorts were gassed and burnt much like Jews in the Holocaust by Good 'Ole Uncle Sam Himself.

Anyhow, I went in last night for my first radio "show", and went back today around 3:30, and I plan on going again until about 5:30 tomorrow.
Basically, anyone can get a spot on FRA, because there is alot of Dead Air, which is bad.
A quote from the FRA handout for new DJ's:

"Anything is better than silence. We'll take amature drivel, rawness, or confusion over silence."

So I said "Hey, I can do drivel, rawness and confusion!"

So, I've taken on the radio DJ surname. "Curious Yellow", which is the famous Vurt Feather in the Jeff Noon books Vurt and Pollen.

I'm thinking of a name for my show right now. I'm thinking of something along the lines of "The Ill-Bent Radio Show".

Note: Ill-Bent is a term that DJ Spooky made up in order to describe his own music, I think it's a pretty nifty term, I hope he doesn't mind if I use it.
Special Note to Paul D. Miller: Spooky, if you ever read this, and you don't want me ganking your ideas, you can just /msg me, and I'll stop.

Anyhow, what I've been doing on the show is playing intrumental tracks, like hip hop instrumentals (Wu-Tang Clan instrumentals, mostly, although I'm not a remendous Wu-Tang Fan) or just electronic music like DJ Logic, or Autechre, while simultaneously playing around on one of the turntables, scratching anything frum Sun Ra to educational wax about The Scarlet Letter or The Boston Massacre.

It's a really fun thing to do to pass the time between work, school, noding and sleep.

I went to see my niece today. She's one day old, and she's so cute and tiny. It's my second oldest sister's second baby. I remember when her first was born almost two years ago. Now she's walking and talking and being quite the rambunctious youngster. Today I sat and held my baby niece for about an hour. She just kept looking around with these perfect beautiful eyes taking everything in. The amazing thing is she's only ever seen the hospital; she has so much more to see, the trees, the grass, the sky. Babies are wonderful. When my brother-in-law came the three of them were on the bed together. My sister was holding the baby and he was looking over both of them. It was such a beautiful sight, a perfect little family. Family is one of the best things in the world, and it's days like today that makes me so glad I have them.

I decided to node a my diary entry for the day, So here goes:(note: I write to my diary exactly the same way I talk to a friend about me.)

Dear Diary,
Another day has passed and I still feel hollow. Nothing seems to make me feel happy nor sad. I found out I failed my midterm by 4% today, I sat down, stared at my paper and felt nothing. I cared, but still, nothing. As I walked out of the classroom I began to think to myself, is everything really finally in its place? Or am I just denying myself of the depression that I am bounded to? Perhaps I try too hard to get out of it, and now I feel hollow. Not empty, but hollow, neutral, as if I don't even feel any more emotions other than the love for my friends and those close to me. I used to believe that if I work and finally achieve contentment, I will be happy. And at this point in time I have everything that I need, everything that I want, I'm FINALLY content. And yet, where's the happiness? There was happiness at the beginning, but where is it now? Nothing has changed in the that period of time, so why don't I feel happy? I don't believe in true happiness anymore, maybe I was naive that I believed in it before. All that exists to me is that momentary happiness which I am only able to achieve once a week at most. But then again, who am I to complain...

I entered the math club after I got my midterm back hoping to find people who will make me feel wanted by talking to me. No luck, I know them, they're in a sense my "friends" but I was invisible. So I sat down and just starting thinking once again and concluded that I have no reason to live on. I have goals, a purpose, a future. And yet they mean nothing to me and I cannot explain why. I take pride in my hardwork to get me to University, and it's not like I'm going to flunk out (hopefully). But it does not feel as if it was important enough for me to keep living on for. What's a future if I am not happy? I am not living for myself anymore. I am living for those few people whom I acknowledge as my "true friends". Those who might actually feel sad if I died. I cannot let them feel sad because of me. I am not worthy of any of them in the first place, I do not deserve sadness for my death. So I cannot die, I will do anything for them, they cannot be unhappy. (I don't think that just made any sense...hmmm..-_-) But deep inside although they're my "true friends" I know they'll all eventually leave me, one by one, as if I was meant to be tortured. One has left me recently, "I Understand" his reason, and I accept it since I didnt' deserve him in the first place.

I look up, it's noisy, there are now lots of people in the room. All seemed to be welcomed but me, I am still just an invisible visitor. Sometimes I just wish I could hide myself from the world in a corner and just cry and cry and cry for the rest of my life. But I know that will never be able to happen. I tell myself: I must be strong, for those who care about me. I cannot let them feel unhappy just because I do. I am constantly wearing this mask, to show the world that I'm okay. But in reality I'm as weak and fragile as a newborn coming into this world.
Everytime I walk down the UBC campus I feel invisible, I am alone, one against this world. Then I wonder, if I die, will anyone care? If I die, will anyone even notice? My answer plagues me and sometimes I just feel as if I wish I was naive. Then I can live in a dream, my dream, and be happy. But I cannot, I am not a naive and optimistic person and I will never be able to become one. I fear death, but not because I will be dead, but because then I will be able to realize that no one really cares. Oh how I want someone to care, to make a difference in someone's life. And yet, I cannot, maybe there really is something wrong with me....

Today was great :)

At around 4pm today, TC decided to call up Ann to find out when and where we were going to get together to talk about our weekend trip to Orlando. TC immediately hung up the phone after about 1 minute of talking, and urged me to rush with her out the door for an unexplained reason. Well, it just so happened they (Ann, Sara, and CR) were pulling into the parking lot. Sara gave me a big hug; it seemed bigger than ever before. I felt like maybe our talk on Sunday must have really meant something to her.

We went with them over to a nearby park where they have a dog park (CR's dog needed to do some running and socializing). I sat on a bench next to Sara and had the best encounter ever with her. It was about 70 degrees out, with a decent breeze. Sara is quite thin, so she was a bit cold. But I don't know if it was the cold weather or our talk on Sunday, but she was cuddling right up to me. She took my arm and rested it on her leg, wrapped her arms around mine, and put her head on my shoulder. That was pure heaven. I was doing all I could to slow time down as much as possible and live in that moment forever. We sat there like that for seemed like an hour, even though only a couple of minutes went by. It was the best moment of my life.

We only spent about 45 minutes there. We had to split up becuase TC and I had to go back to work for a bit. I was going to meet up with the others at Ann's later on (TC had to go home early). After work, I went home to clean up a bit. Now that I think about it, I don't even remember my drive home. My head was totally in the clouds.

I got to Ann's and was disappointed to hear that Sara wasn't feeling too well and went home. I was really down for a little while, but Ann and CR are a great pair of friends and they managed to cheer me up. We went to the mall and walked around at least twice. Then we stopped for some food supplies and went back to Ann's for dinner. After talking for a while, it was beginning to get late and I wanted to get home to check up on Sara. I got home and had an email from her saying she also had some homework to get done, and apologized for skipping out.. I replied to her a long letter thanking her for just being so warm to me today and to let her know how she made me feel.

It was an awesome day.

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