I feel vaguely aware of my transformation as a human being. It has occured gradually, over the time period of this semester - and it all goes back to my Rhetoric 1302 teacher.

I'm a first year college student taking basic level courses. The basic written communications class, Rhetoric 1302, is not respected by many students on campus. I always receive sympathy from my friends upon lamenting that I have an essay due soon. That is, until I revealed that said essay was for RHET-1302.

Despite its reputation, this class has changed me for the better. Even though I have learned valuable writing and aruging skills in the class, they have not affected me profoundly. What HAS is my teacher. He has a spark - an enjoyment of his work and an exitement about life - that is missing in most of my other professors.

This spark has acted as a sort of jump start out of my depression: I've gotten the ball rolling again, perhaps a little slower than I would like it to be, but it is rolling. I've taken information from various sources (my teacher, friends, books, music) and have used it to make myself a bit more mature. I can express myself more clearly than before (even though I still realize my communication skills still have much room for improvement). I am less selfish and more open to considering other viewpoints. I found my passion, music, again. I may not have direction, but I don't worry myself to death about it like I used to.

I am genuinely pleased with my progress, however, there is an issue I have been wondering about. I feel regret for how I acted in my previous romantic relationship, which ended approximately two months ago.. (we have not said a word to each other since we broke up.) I was something close to a black hole of emotional need (as Templeton once put it). I was insecure, paranoid, sick, depressed, and generally not a fun person to be around. Now, that I have made a turn for the better, I am thinking about contacting her. We parted on good terms.. I would like to call her up, and begin to rebuild our friendship. I would like to apologize for some past actions of mine and see if she would like for us to catch up on each other's lives..

I wonder if this would be wise. I'm not sure if she would be receptive to me.. perhaps I should just leave well enough alone, and wait to see if she ever calls me.

If you have any ideas as to what I should do, I'd appreciate your input.

I was just sitting, pretty much staring into space, and had this flashback to my time in college:

The only bit of graffiti I have ever written. (I think)

In the bathroom in the computer center there was some graffiti in Russian. I don't know Russian, but some word like nyet was the tipoff. For some odd reason I felt like I should add something. I took out a pen and wrote, "Da Tetris!", just below it.

I didn't think much more about it, though I know the graffiti stayed up there for a while. A year or two later, I was hanging out with some friends and one of them was wearing a "Russian Club" T-Shirt. There were various phrases in Russian printed kind of randomly on the shirt (in different sizes and orientations). Somewhere in the middle of the shirt was that magic phrase, "Da Tetris!"

So I asked the guy about this. Sure enough, he said that this had been spotted in the computer center bathroom and everybody in the Russian Club got a big laugh out of it and it became some kind of inside joke for them. I told him I was the source and he said, "cool," but in a tone that kind of gave me the feeling he didn't believe me.

Today was a depressing day. I drove back to Calgary from Saskatoon today, after leaving my girlfriend there for her summer job. She's staying with relatives, and working at the University of Saskatchewan doing work in her field. Its a very good thing for her, especially since she's considering doing grad school there, what with the Canadian Light Source coming online soon and all.

It was a semi-interesting trip. As interesting as the flat lands between Saskatoon and Calgary can be anyway. The most interesting part was the Red Deer river valley, which is sort of badlandish. Other than that, you have a lot of little rolling hills and gullies that aren't much after living in the shadow of the mountains for all your life.

As I drove out of the 50 zone in this small town, I hear a weird noise, as if had run over something. It sounded pretty serious and didn't go away as I accelerated; it got worse. I slammed on the brakes, got out, and looked around a bit, and found that the stone guard had broken off on the right side near the bumper. It's held on at four points, two plastic brackets connect it to the bumper at the front, and two plastic connectors hold it one further back. The plastic connector on the right must have come off at some point, so every bump I went over flexed the plastic bracket until it broke. The stone guard was now dragging on the ground, and the sound I heard was my front tire catching it. I pulled off the other connector deal and broke off the other bracket since I didn't have a proper wrench to take it off with, and no wire to hold the right side on with. So I had to remember to stay off gravel roads and to get that fixed. They'll have to replace the whole bumper I think, which probably won't be cheap...

I was sort of fighting getting depressed all the way home, and once I got there I broke down for about half an hour. It dawned on me that I had left my best friend in the world, the only person I've every really missed (in my adult life), in a place very far away, and that I wouldn't see her for at least a month. Well, there's more to be expressed here, mostly about my feelings of isolation and so no, but I'm out of words for today.

I think I've been looking at too much porn. I was sifting through files on my computer and I came across one called "fibrosis.jpg"

Just because a file is called "fibrosis.jpg" doesn't mean its Finnish incest pornography.

I don't know why I thought it was. But it wasn't.

What's even worse was I was terribly disapointed.

It's funny to me now.....throughout my time on E2, I've always mentioned my love for Jack Daniels. But no more for...I make the worst decisions one could dream on under its influence. Last night, I messed around with a girl my roomate had the hots for. That's the weakest shit in the whole world. Basically, the majority of the day dealt with the weight on my shoulders of this fucked up indcident. Eeyore's birthday today in Austin, TX. A list of ther drugs I have ingested in the last 15 hours.

So needless to say, I'm a little tipsy, seems like I really poured it on form the experience in my April 26, 2001 log. The only escape I've had from the tension is intoxication. I will crash soon, Eeyore did his damage to me. It's weird though honestly, while I have listed a wide variety of drugs....I'm glad, I haven't been this balls out in a long time. It's kinda nice out here.
This is ground control to Major Tom
Went to Denton. Arts Festival. Hanging out with him and his parents and a friend of his mom's. Canoeing on the lake--can you believe? Wonderful dinner. Finishing each other's sentences. Brave Combo Concert. Salsa dancing.

I am completely unable to look away from his eyes.

Being the life of the party. Then the complete void and inability to feel. The ride back to Dallas, singing in the car the entire way. Losing my voice and all feeling in my hands. Finally asking him WHAT HAPPENED because I desperately needed to know.

And he must have answered me because we talked for over an hour.

Then I sent him home so he can sleep; he has church in the morning and so do I.

I know that if I let this pass me by I will be passing up something very big.

But I am also scared to death.


It's falling down around me, and I don't know what I can do about it. Nothing.

Betryal, apathy, melodrama, snobbery, bitch. I'm too emo. Fuck it all. But now... now things in my home of homes, my friends, my support, my world... they're beyond shaken up, they're gone. I still have a friend or two, thank god. Kat and Mike, whether they're together or not, will be my friends for a long time to come. I hope.

I couldn't see my nose despite my face or whatever... I couldn't see it, even though i saw it so crystal clear.

He had to have cheated on her. I saw it so vividly in the way he talked to Mary, the way he acted toward Mary, and the way theyt acted together... but no, it was just coincidence.

She really doesn't think i matter anymore does she? i'm inconsequential, all because i mattered to her. Selfish bitch. "I didn't want to get burned". Well, fuck you. Burn yourself to the ground for all I fucking care... Just don't take me with you god damnit. And that's exactly hat she did.

Now i'm drifting free. Nothing holding me back, nothing holding me down, nothing keeping me together. who knows where this will go. I'm actually kinda interested in seeing what happens now. Chaos and randomnity are the parents of creation, and they're taking over again. It makes life interesting, makes it seem . . . real. Cold randomnity is what created everything, and to cold randomnity it'll all return - and that's the pattern. The pattern is life.

But that's too far ahead. all i can see now is the fact that it's all gone, or at least the way things used to be. But they never really were. I was in denial about the fact that my absense had changed things and that things had changed in my absense. They can deal with it all, it's not my problem. But it is.

And she hates me. She'll never fucking be there again, never in my arms, never in her eyes, never anywhere except a place for me to feel the heat of hatred. Never understanding, never a home again.

I'm not going to blame myself for this, i've done that before. i know how things happened this time, and there's no denying it. She can feel however she wants to feel, but i'm not going to feel that. I have enough shit to deal with, whether she gives a fuck or not - but i don't really expect her to.

Now here's the big question: Why the hell do i give a fuck? Why does she contunie to get under my skin? I consistantly told myself not to give a fuck, because in the end i knew I was expendable, just like everyone else in her life. I tried to make her expendable. But fuck - nobody is, i just can't live that way.

I realized too late, after we become distant. Before i could talk to her about it, and after things had already drifted off to a world of miscommunication. So i moved on, too fast. That was over fast, but it affected her. Or did it? Or does she give a fuck? I'll never know, and that's the way she wants it to be.

Why did Angie have to twist the knife? Why did I let her?

And may her diety of choice forbid anything wasn't the way she wanted it to be, that's all she ever wanted - all she ever wants... But today, when i showed up it changed something - she didn't want me around. I wasn't part of her plan, so i ruined the plan. Now i'm alone again, and now she's 'moved on' too. or so she thinks. or is she? fuck. she knew it would torture me, she knew it would tear me apart, she knew i'd be in hell not knowing what to do about it, how she feels, or what she thinks about me, herself, or the whatever-it-was we once had.

Fuck it. It's over. It was nothing to begin with.

Then why does it feel this way?

Oh, by the way Sarah... Happy Birthday.

I wish things weren't this way, but I get the distinct feeling you just won't give a fuck either way. And if your real feelings on the subject are different, fuck you. Just know that I'm here, and if you're willing to talk about it I'll be more than happy. But I get a very, very strong feeling that you'd rather not. If that's the case, then fuck you - do a slow burn from the inside and see if I give a shit.

I don’t even want to write but I suppose that I must because I can’t sleep.

I wish that I was someone else. I wish I was dumb and pretty and extremely popular. I want blond hair blue eyes and a fucking pony.

Okay, hold the pony. That was just self-mockery. I hate who I am because I hate all of the things that other people hate about me. (Lusty hate what a boring emotion.) I hate people like me who complain the way I’m complaining now. Ergo, I hate myself. Lovely. Now change. That’s the answer.

I can’t change some things. Well, I could stop swearing. That would make me seem more pleasant. I could stop writing unpleasant things on the sidewalks and I could buy more pink sweaters. But, honestly, I think I look like a fool whenever I try to come across as nice. I look like an ape in a wig. It’s amusing isn’t it?

You know, I said that I wished I was dumb, but that oughtn’t be such worry for me. I’m at best clever. I’m not particularly intelligent. Dog-like cleverness, the kind that breaks into garbage cans and steals biscuits, that’s what I’ve got. Anything I do that seems intelligent is just posing. I am the most superficial person I know.

That wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t so unattractive. My hair is short my body’s short and so is my nose. It all goes nowhere. No one has ever said to me “You have such a beautiful face” but I get a lot of attention for my ass. Well, I’m lucky I guess. No one has everything.

I’m really starting to become a little impatient with people. I’ve always tried to give everyone a chance. To help them to see that I’m not so bad, really and to try to see if they aren't so bad. But, I’m getting sick of it. Why do I have to work so hard? I mean, people look right through me all the time. I say “hello!” and they ignore me. I smile and they just look away. Then some asks “Why are you so sullen?” I’m sick of getting bit, that’s why. I’m sick of reaching out to people and being left hanging. I’m sick of being the second choice. The girl you’ll date if that better one doesn't work out. I feel like trash, like leftovers, like stale bread, like meat not fit for the dogs.

I am healthy. I’m strong. I work out, I read, I exercise my mind and body. I try to learn about the world, and to make little contributions when I can. I always ask “can I help?” and if I’m asked to help I hardly ever say no. I think a lot of my self. Yes, I’ll say it: I’m proud of myself. But, I must not be doing enough. I must not be clever enough or strong enough because I’m still the same person. I don’t want to have to live my whole life being this person. I look in the mirror and I see a monster, no, not a monster. That’s too grand. (That might even be good!) I see a troll, a humorous, harmless, ugly, little creature that would do well to scrub the floors and say thank you for its bread.

Thank you.

I shudder to think, to imagine, what would happen if Buddhists declared a jihad.

Muslims and Israelites toting guns through the streets, intent on mass conversion through intimidation; Christians pilfering the banks and businesses so that they can collect "their" 10% from humanity at large.... these possibilities hold very little power over my conscience because I would expect that. But a Buddhist brandishing a bomb in a mall, madly shouting, "EMBRACE THE TAO!!!".... That terrifies me. Of course, nothing like that has or would happen, but just the mere thought of it makes me shiver with dread.

All the mental and physical conditioning that hardcore taoist monks are privvy to and willpower, if unleashed upon the world in blind religious gluttony, could be totally devastating. Such an event would prey on my mind 'till my dying breath. People don't think about the possibility that it could happen, but if you ponder it for just a moment... doubtless the taoists know what they're capable of- which is probably why they're so reserved. Wise people, they are. And wise people know that simply having power is not the show of strength that not using it can be.

But just imagine it... 10,000 maniacal bald heads running across a rice-pattie field, their eyes burning with zeal and staring back at you, like Kung Fu meets Braveheart.

It's the stuff of nightmares. Beware!

It's utterly amazing sometimes how life can throw you for a loop. I've had so much fun within the last two days that I almost feel guilty about it. The operative word is almost. It's been a fun two days but like yesterday, a day of masks and fake facades. It tires one out easily, and most importantly, very quickly. But at least its nice to have something to smile about, even when its forced.

The night started off with a cell phone call. Ring. "Hi..". I replied "Hey..". It was an old friend, one that I haven't talked to for the longest time. I've been recently on a trip through nostalgia and this was definitely a pleasant surprise. We talked for a few hours, while I waited for Dawadeving to play a game of Brood War. We didn't wind up playing because he wound up sleeping but I didn't mind. We caught up on old times, opened up old wounds, and tried to playfully rekindle old flames. Finally, about 6 am came, and I thought I should sleep. I had to work in about 5.5 hours and I won't be awake in time if I don't. "Bye...Sweet dreams...". I replied "Yes...You have sweet dreams too...I hope to talk to you soon...". I knew that the next time that I would talk to her would be probably in about a year's time but then, saying that made me feel better somehow. I think its positive reinforcement of an ideal image in my mind. With that passing thought, I close my eyes and sleep, hoping that my dreams to be as pleasant as the night before. I feel myself eventually drifting off into the darkness of slumber and I succumb to its call.

11:00. I have work in half an hour. I get ready and get to work in time. I get my usual pack of mentos and get to work. I tried to get off at 6 instead of 8 since my bicep locks on it and I wanted to go to the doctor to check it out. Hope it isn't tendonitis on the elbow. I even wore a tensor like I did all day yesterday, and was center of attention. "How are you?...Oh..What happened?...", "Oh! Are you all right?...". While sort of nice, it was better from the co-workers that I thought were lovely. It was a day of physical labor, but I didn't mind. I didn't get to go to the gym so this was my very inadequate replacement. It's better than nothing.

I get home, but forgot to tell my mom that I'm going out for sushi with some friends and she cooked me some food. I didn't want to hurt her feelings so I take some but don't really eat much. Didn't want to spoil all you can eat after all. I call MrFurious to check to see if he was coming but he didn't know the time and I even got annoyed about it, thinking that we would be late. We wound up being the first ones there.

Richmond Sushi was packed tonight, and I saw so many old friends, both I met through work and school. Even better, I saw the friends that I intended to meet there, and more. Three of them were attractive and I haven't seen for a while. We used to work together at McDonald's, during it's glory days, at least that's what I wanted to think. We were joking around while eating and finally wound up at the arcade where I played a game of DDR with one of the lovely ladies and took some picture cards by Lovegety. We even planned a clubbing day next week to the Purple Onion. Off we go. Then MrFurious gave my buddy and our mutual friend a ride home. It has been a fun night except a stupid prank by some immature bastards where they threw water balloons at passing cars. They even broke some man's windshield. But even that can't ruin the day so far.

Now I'm home, trying to physically and mentally revive myself for the coming day. I'm again in the dark, but again FinKL is the music of choice, with their perky style of Korean Pop. I would be lying to you if I said that I didn't find anything wrong with today but I think that it's a matter of the good outweighing the bad.

I've always thought that even though McDonald's is a crappy place to work, it was the most fun I've had in a workplace. Great people to work with, cute girls, and people my age. Then seeing them again, I remember pretty much growing up during the teenage years together. Three years is a lot of time and I've grown up alongside them. Chatting during work, talking outside, fooling around. It almost makes me want to go back but the same crew aren't there anymore. I miss the memories more than the place. But again, like a lost love, it's all in the past. Nothing will ever change that. One cannot live on memories alone and nor do I expect myself to. But still, nothing can make me stop yearning for those fantastic times.

Now I'm alone again, with the solitude of my subconscious, and the melodies of the music coming from my computer speakers. I press my fingers against one another, making a cage over my palms. I move them so that my index fingers are on my upper lip and my thumbs on my chin. I look at the sticker pictures and the picture card. I smile. I pray that I may have another day like this. Now I feel a sudden chill. It's time to go. I hope that tomorrow isn't simply another day, but another great day.
Woke up hungover, tired and depressed. I had a dream, and in it my grandfather died- I woke up sad, then remembered that my grandfather is already dead , he died at the end of December. The love of my life wasn't in bed, he'd gotten up to do some work (damn that pager and its infernal untimely beeping!) so I had no-one to tell my sadness to. I went back to sleep.

When I awoke again, a fairly uneventful day unfurled; hanging out with friends, bursting into tears whenever I was alone. Cleaning up the kitchen after yesterday's party, in the bathroom, playing Tekken: all apparently cause for weeping. Oh yeah.

I need my Zoloft. I need the doctor to give me a nice sample pack for free, then I'll get my act together. I promise.

We saw 'Requiem for a Dream' today. It was worse than I thought it would be- in a harrowing sense, not a "that was the worst movie ever" sense. Heart-breaking and beautiful. It (surprisingly) didn't help my mood.

I ate too much, I cried too much, I bitched at jt too much today.

I promise tomorrow I'll be good.

i slept till 3pm today. my alarm went of at 12 but apparently i fell asleep again. so the first thing i did was to go out with my dog and for once i let her loose. i was surprised hos obedient she got when she wasn't leashed. she came to me when i told her to, she didn't run up to every person that walked by, she didn't even drink from puddles. yeah. i was really surprised. maybe i should let her lose more often. actually i think the same thing concern us humans.

my parents were really liberal people that didn't set up many rules, didn't force me to do stuff, never punished me and didn't preach about every little single thing i did wrong. now i'm 18 years old. and i love my parents. we almost never fight. i have allways done the stuff they have asked me nicely to do without any argument really. and i'm starting to think that maybe they liberal upbringing of me actually made me more of a "good son".

i think that the majority of kids today have pretty strict or very stricts parents and they do nothing for their parents and don't care what the hell they're saying to them. they really hate them. you don't do anything for someone you hate. i belive it's better to raise your kids to actually love you and not fight with you every single day. it's better for both parts. at least i will not so strict when raising my future son or daughter.
Evening out last night for friend's birthday. Was most pleasant even though the ex was there. Very strange being out with someone you used to live with and now not having any physical contact. Despite this I drank a little gin(not enough for a hangover though) and danced to great tunes in Poptastic. Saw two chicks in Sleater-Kinney t-shirts. Made my evening.

Danced near a girl all night who I really liked but didn't have the guts to speak to. She had a 'You Are the Weakest Link' t-shirt on. I left a message for her at the ShagTag desk, but they put the wrong number on the board and she never got it. I was too shy to go tell her this! Maybe I am the weakest link?!

Having arrived home at 3.30am, I was wide awake, ears ringing and glad of a good night out. I read more of a Maureen Lipman book I've been reading called Thank You for Having Me. Very funny, chewing gum for the eyes. I slept until 9am.

Have been told by another friend that I must go back to Poptastic to see if the girl is there again. Maybe I'll take my confident head next time and be the Cheekiest Wink.

Oh poo. :-)

We didn't get any cabling done (see yesterday's writeup). We spend all morning trying to work out where we were going to store the cable and how to label it. I spent the afternoon lifting floorboards and ironing.

Anyway... I now know what an Alpha Snap system is. I might let you know one day (not yet, though).

Had a bit of good news from work, though. A database upgrade (from MSDB to VSO DEDB) worked. Last time, they managed to, erm, have some problems with the production environment... But now we can put our changes in on Tuesday.

I have a migraine.  I have 5 essays due very soon.  On top of this I don't know what my living situation is going to be next year yet.  Now that I've unloaded my shit, I'm happy to note I atleast have a good beginning to one of my essays:
Most periods of social change can first be glimpsed in popular culture.  However, it is often that these moments are not recognized until after the fact.  In 1962 there was one of those moments in the first James Bond film Dr. No.  About halfway through the film, Sean Connery as James Bond is on a Caribbean Island and is startled awake by singing.  He wonders onto the beach and witnesses an impressive sight:

 Like early man coming out of the ocean, we, through Connery’s eyes see a new type of woman.  In the embodiment of Ursla Andress, we see the new woman of the coming “sexual revolution”.  She is sleek and athletic, armed with a knife, not with a man.

Andress is the opposite of the typical fifties movie bombshell.  That type of woman was soft; fuller figured with large breasts that made her almost unnaturally proportioned and ready to collapse at any moment.

More later and I promise it will be interesting.
I went into town today to get my sister a CD for her birthday. I took the car, much against everyone's advice, because I have found a parking space in town that no-one else seems to know about. (And no, I'm not telling :-) Anyway, as I was coming out of the top of Buckstone Road, waiting for a gap in the traffic in which to turn right, I noticed a slightly familiar looking guy on a bike, coming up the road towards me. I didn't place him at first. Sandy-coloured beard. Glasses. Slightly tubby. Late forties? Squinting look. Then, as he was passing direcly in front of my car, it hit me and I informed my passenger:

"Holy shit, it's Bill Bryson!"

Although my passenger agreed with me, I can't in retrospect say with 100% certainty that he was in fact the distinguished travel-writer himself. But if he wasn't, whoever he was would do well to get in touch with a look-a-likes agency.

You are annoying and weak
And every time you open your mouth
Lies and whines are all you speak.

Do you always need someone to hold your hand?
Behaving like a lost puppy
Trying to find someone to brand

With the painful sting of your meer presence.
A broken link in a chain no one wants to fix
You behave like you have not aged past six

After this time is through
And I see you on the street
An extended middle finger to you, and any obscenity I can bleat.

-Dedicated to K.

Random stripper at large?

Today I had to ride my bike to and from work because the buses weren't running. This is not unusual in itself; I do this at least once a week. However, my ride home was a very unusual one in that I do not usually see signs of a recent strip show while coasting along in the bike lane.

First I see a bra. A bra, just lying there by the side of the road. Little underwire job with lace on it. I laugh as I zoom past, wondering how a BRA got there and thinking it was probably some kind of prank. My college roommate, after all, once accidentally threw a bra at a cop, though that is a completely different story which I may tell at another time if someone reminds me. This was just another random bra in my life, lying by the side of the road.

And then, about five minutes later, I passed the shirt.

Little baby tee shirt type, like hot mammas like to wear when they're trying to be hoochied out but still casual. First I wonder why the bra came off first, then I realize it's possible they were riding the other direction. Oh my, I think. Unless these are unrelated articles of clothing, which seems doubtful, I do believe we've a topless motorist on our hands. I ride on.

And then I see the underwear. Yes, a little pair of panties decorating the roadside's sickly strip of green.

I don't even want to think about it.

She must've tossed her pants or skirt or whatever in a location past my apartment complex. Let's just say I'm not going to go look for it. I am disturbed enough as it is.

I returned from Wales today, having gone down for the weekend for a friend's 18th. In all I spent 13 hours travelling and I only spent 3 hours partying in Swansea. It was excellent though, we went to Time.

However the reason I spent so long travelling is due partly to the circle line on the London Underground. The tube was sufficiently delayed for me to miss my train there, causing me to wait an hour for the next one. I then found that coming back it prevented me from catching my train back to my home suburb of Dulwich after getting back to London.

I don't know the ins-and-outs of the PPP tube plans and which arugment is better but they need to sort something out pretty damn soon or there will be a spontaneous uprising in London.

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