A record of the life and times of one brown shirt-wearing university student, struggling to escape his fear of intimacy, overcome his hunger for eternal supremacy in every aspect, and never have to write a description of his life like this again.
Thursday, October 31, 2002
Surprise!
Erin fucking betrayted me. Shen went to a party that she said she wasn't going to go to , and I thought we wereg oing to spend halloween togeher becaue we're BEST FRIEWNDS but apparently she'd rather hang out with her gentlemenf friends. and she's going to parpparty that i was going to drive us to but she got me trashed and nowobviously uii can't drive so yeah. I'm mildly pissed. off. i wished i would have stayed in my room because then i could be angrty and not be drunk. Oh well. And so it goes.
Erin fucking betrayted me. Shen went to a party that she said she wasn't going to go to , and I thought we wereg oing to spend halloween togeher becaue we're BEST FRIEWNDS but apparently she'd rather hang out with her gentlemenf friends. and she's going to parpparty that i was going to drive us to but she got me trashed and nowobviously uii can't drive so yeah. I'm mildly pissed. off. i wished i would have stayed in my room because then i could be angrty and not be drunk. Oh well. And so it goes.
Holiday
It's Halloween, everyone. In case you were unaware.
I "dressed up" like Eurotrash for a good part of the day. I dried my hair with a hair dryer, which made it 1970s porn-star curly. I wore my Diesels, which were, for some reason, really loose around the waist today, and a tan-ish tunic-ish shirt-ish piece of fabric I purchased in Rome. Oh, and to identify that I was, in fact, not only queer today, but also Eurotrash, I made nametags and placed them on my body. It was fun. Sort of.
My glorious Astronomy professor, Dr. Angela Speck, dressed up like a mysteriously sexy witch. As a bit of backstory, Dr. Speck dresses up like a witch for Halloween every year because, well, she likes it. (I think she's a closet wiccan, but that's mere speculation.) So, of course, her outfit was quite intricate, and had that "I dressed myself in the dark" British flare. She passed by me during class, glanced for several moments at me and my "Eurotrash" nametag, and said that it was "inventive." I imagine she was being sarcastic.
Theo is writing in his Blog again, for those of you who would like to know.
I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing tonight, so when I wake up tomorrow (or rather, after class), I will update.
It's Halloween, everyone. In case you were unaware.
I "dressed up" like Eurotrash for a good part of the day. I dried my hair with a hair dryer, which made it 1970s porn-star curly. I wore my Diesels, which were, for some reason, really loose around the waist today, and a tan-ish tunic-ish shirt-ish piece of fabric I purchased in Rome. Oh, and to identify that I was, in fact, not only queer today, but also Eurotrash, I made nametags and placed them on my body. It was fun. Sort of.
My glorious Astronomy professor, Dr. Angela Speck, dressed up like a mysteriously sexy witch. As a bit of backstory, Dr. Speck dresses up like a witch for Halloween every year because, well, she likes it. (I think she's a closet wiccan, but that's mere speculation.) So, of course, her outfit was quite intricate, and had that "I dressed myself in the dark" British flare. She passed by me during class, glanced for several moments at me and my "Eurotrash" nametag, and said that it was "inventive." I imagine she was being sarcastic.
Theo is writing in his Blog again, for those of you who would like to know.
I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing tonight, so when I wake up tomorrow (or rather, after class), I will update.
Tuesday, October 29, 2002
Where do you stand?
Hopefully not on my foot.
I did not just type that. I promise. Go here to determine your position on the Political Compass.
My results:
Economic Left/Right: -5.62
Authoritarian/Libertarian: -5.85
(Liberal democrat/leftist)
Get back to me about what your test results were.
Hopefully not on my foot.
I did not just type that. I promise. Go here to determine your position on the Political Compass.
My results:
Economic Left/Right: -5.62
Authoritarian/Libertarian: -5.85
(Liberal democrat/leftist)
Get back to me about what your test results were.
Do yourself a favour...
...and puchase Christina Aguilera's "Stripped." It's surprisingly amazing. She's delved, and rightfully so, into the world of soul/jazz, where her voice can be utilized to its highest potential. I adore it/her. Bob and I determined that her look could be...revised. But, like a book shan't be judged by its cover, don't judge a performer by her Cruella DeVil hair and leather chaps.
...and puchase Christina Aguilera's "Stripped." It's surprisingly amazing. She's delved, and rightfully so, into the world of soul/jazz, where her voice can be utilized to its highest potential. I adore it/her. Bob and I determined that her look could be...revised. But, like a book shan't be judged by its cover, don't judge a performer by her Cruella DeVil hair and leather chaps.
Catharsis
While my mood change is not as drastic as Chris', I have experienced a wide scope of emotions these past twenty-four hours. Last night, upon returning from the car hospital, I suddenly felt trapped/imprisoned without my car. I never realized how much how I depended upon my ugly, beat-up old vehicle. In theory, it provides me with a bubble in which I can float around the city, county, state and just be myself, by myself. I can think, listen to music, and in essence, escape reality. I felt so alone and helpless last night; it was possibly the lowest of lows I've felt in this new stage of my life. I just wanted to cease from existing. It was terrible.
(Randomly: Do you all know that five-minute period of time after waking up that you simply cannot and do not remember anything horrible that hppened the day before? I love that. Those are my favourite five minutes of every day. I woke up this morning without remembering any of the radical thoughts I had last night.)
But then, this morning, I was awoken to a phone call from University Chrysler, telling me my car was all better and I can pick it up whenever. And so, walking back to my room from class (a twenty minute walk, as a non-sequitur), I actually started thinking about staying at Missouri. This idea will most likely fly away like an abandoned balloon, but it gives some indication to how content I have been today. Me and my car. What a perfect couple.
While my mood change is not as drastic as Chris', I have experienced a wide scope of emotions these past twenty-four hours. Last night, upon returning from the car hospital, I suddenly felt trapped/imprisoned without my car. I never realized how much how I depended upon my ugly, beat-up old vehicle. In theory, it provides me with a bubble in which I can float around the city, county, state and just be myself, by myself. I can think, listen to music, and in essence, escape reality. I felt so alone and helpless last night; it was possibly the lowest of lows I've felt in this new stage of my life. I just wanted to cease from existing. It was terrible.
(Randomly: Do you all know that five-minute period of time after waking up that you simply cannot and do not remember anything horrible that hppened the day before? I love that. Those are my favourite five minutes of every day. I woke up this morning without remembering any of the radical thoughts I had last night.)
But then, this morning, I was awoken to a phone call from University Chrysler, telling me my car was all better and I can pick it up whenever. And so, walking back to my room from class (a twenty minute walk, as a non-sequitur), I actually started thinking about staying at Missouri. This idea will most likely fly away like an abandoned balloon, but it gives some indication to how content I have been today. Me and my car. What a perfect couple.
Monday, October 28, 2002
Morte
My car is officially in an intensive care unit. Apparently, the "spindle" of my rear driver's side wheel broke or something...basically, from what I witnessed, little metal teeth were falling out of my wheel and that is bad or something. I don't understand cars, and I'm not going to pretend to. So, it's going to be at least three days until I can have my car back. Three days. This means I have to walk to class from practically St. Louis (priss, you think to yourself) and eat...shudder...by myself in public. After reading Orwell's "Down and out in Paris and London," I've decided that starving is not that horrible. I can do it. It'll be fun. Three days...and holy hell, I have lots of junk food in my room. I'm fine. Two bottles of water...I'm set. SET.
And no, I didn't make that up.
My car is officially in an intensive care unit. Apparently, the "spindle" of my rear driver's side wheel broke or something...basically, from what I witnessed, little metal teeth were falling out of my wheel and that is bad or something. I don't understand cars, and I'm not going to pretend to. So, it's going to be at least three days until I can have my car back. Three days. This means I have to walk to class from practically St. Louis (priss, you think to yourself) and eat...shudder...by myself in public. After reading Orwell's "Down and out in Paris and London," I've decided that starving is not that horrible. I can do it. It'll be fun. Three days...and holy hell, I have lots of junk food in my room. I'm fine. Two bottles of water...I'm set. SET.
And no, I didn't make that up.
Sunday, October 27, 2002
Headache
I have one. Do you? Did you drink a dozen bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade last night? Thought not.
My sister is SO reading this right now and getting angry/confused/upset.
While I trekked back from D-town to C-town, my car threw its iron arms up in rebellion. It began to murmur noises of utter pain, a grinding bellow. I know she was faking it. Or I thought she was faking it, until she started flailing around on I-54, making her owner look like he had consumed the aforementioned bottles of wonder minutes ago, not hours. Fearing my life, I pulled over a few times, kicked the tires and smelled them (just in case...it seemed like the right thing to do). I made it home, fortunately, but my car will have to go to the hospital tomorrow. That'll "learn" her.
Reoccuring thought of the weekend-all of my old friends/aquaintances are getting to be big boys and girls. Jenny Way has her own CD, two of my friends are getting married...everyone's graduating college and moving on into the big bad world. Where did it all go? The time, that is.
So tired.
I have one. Do you? Did you drink a dozen bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade last night? Thought not.
My sister is SO reading this right now and getting angry/confused/upset.
While I trekked back from D-town to C-town, my car threw its iron arms up in rebellion. It began to murmur noises of utter pain, a grinding bellow. I know she was faking it. Or I thought she was faking it, until she started flailing around on I-54, making her owner look like he had consumed the aforementioned bottles of wonder minutes ago, not hours. Fearing my life, I pulled over a few times, kicked the tires and smelled them (just in case...it seemed like the right thing to do). I made it home, fortunately, but my car will have to go to the hospital tomorrow. That'll "learn" her.
Reoccuring thought of the weekend-all of my old friends/aquaintances are getting to be big boys and girls. Jenny Way has her own CD, two of my friends are getting married...everyone's graduating college and moving on into the big bad world. Where did it all go? The time, that is.
So tired.
Weekend-ing
I am at Millikin University right now, waiting for the bathroom to be unoccupied so I can urinate. Lala...I haven't drank since Europe, and even though that should have meant my resistance was down, I didn't vomit or do anything illegal/stupid! I now have Jenny Way's CD and that makes me happy.
The football game yesterday was actually really fun. I had a great time, which surprised me. We (Missouri) played against kU, our arch rivals, for our homecoming game. After our brutal defeat of the Jayhawks, about 3.2 million people in the stands decided to rush the field and, you guessed it, tear down the goalpost. It took the mob a while to succeed in their quest--they just don't make goalposts like they used to. It was entertaining to watch the police officers running around and such.
I need to pee. Now.
I am at Millikin University right now, waiting for the bathroom to be unoccupied so I can urinate. Lala...I haven't drank since Europe, and even though that should have meant my resistance was down, I didn't vomit or do anything illegal/stupid! I now have Jenny Way's CD and that makes me happy.
The football game yesterday was actually really fun. I had a great time, which surprised me. We (Missouri) played against kU, our arch rivals, for our homecoming game. After our brutal defeat of the Jayhawks, about 3.2 million people in the stands decided to rush the field and, you guessed it, tear down the goalpost. It took the mob a while to succeed in their quest--they just don't make goalposts like they used to. It was entertaining to watch the police officers running around and such.
I need to pee. Now.
Saturday, October 26, 2002
Une excursion du Missouri
I've decided not to waste my lonely free time sitting in my room, sleeping away the depresion and masturbating. Instead, starting this evening, I will report on the joys and wonders that grand old Missouri beholds.
Leçon 1: Jefferson City
What better place to begin my tour of Missouri than in its capitol, Jefferson City. Named after Thomas Jefferson, who had probably never been to Missouri, Jeff City, as the proleteriates refer to it as, stands as a fixture of Missourian tradition and glory. Centered around its majestic capitol building, Jeff City has looked the same for undoutedly decades and decades. Its main street is kitched up to the extreme, with its old-school department stores, jewelers, and eateries. Decked out in 1940s kitch, I was surprised to find that modern cars speckled its streets, instead of wind-up Model Ts. It was a treat to step back in time and find the place as quaint and warm as it may have been during the Roosevelt administration.
Seeing as how I arrived in this pearl of Missouri's oyster at 11:00PM, my options as far as entertainment, dining, and tourism were somewhat limited. I was delighted to find that the sidewalks weren't completely rolled up, and was able to purchase some beverages from Gerbes Supermarket. Gerbes smelled pleasantly of rotting produce, sweat, and floor cleaner. The cashier was skeptical about my purchase of a can of Red Bull.
For my main course, I ventured to the Convenient Mart but blocks away, and feasted on a delightfully sweet glazed pastry commonly referred to as a "Hostess Peach Pie."
Overall, I give this town a 9 for breads and a 6.47 for circuses. A photo essay will be posted shortly.
The next reservoir of paint I will dip my paintbrush into will most likely be St. Louis, since I hope to find a suitable therapist somewhere under the mysterious shadow of the Great Arch.
I've decided not to waste my lonely free time sitting in my room, sleeping away the depresion and masturbating. Instead, starting this evening, I will report on the joys and wonders that grand old Missouri beholds.
Leçon 1: Jefferson City
What better place to begin my tour of Missouri than in its capitol, Jefferson City. Named after Thomas Jefferson, who had probably never been to Missouri, Jeff City, as the proleteriates refer to it as, stands as a fixture of Missourian tradition and glory. Centered around its majestic capitol building, Jeff City has looked the same for undoutedly decades and decades. Its main street is kitched up to the extreme, with its old-school department stores, jewelers, and eateries. Decked out in 1940s kitch, I was surprised to find that modern cars speckled its streets, instead of wind-up Model Ts. It was a treat to step back in time and find the place as quaint and warm as it may have been during the Roosevelt administration.
Seeing as how I arrived in this pearl of Missouri's oyster at 11:00PM, my options as far as entertainment, dining, and tourism were somewhat limited. I was delighted to find that the sidewalks weren't completely rolled up, and was able to purchase some beverages from Gerbes Supermarket. Gerbes smelled pleasantly of rotting produce, sweat, and floor cleaner. The cashier was skeptical about my purchase of a can of Red Bull.
For my main course, I ventured to the Convenient Mart but blocks away, and feasted on a delightfully sweet glazed pastry commonly referred to as a "Hostess Peach Pie."
Overall, I give this town a 9 for breads and a 6.47 for circuses. A photo essay will be posted shortly.
The next reservoir of paint I will dip my paintbrush into will most likely be St. Louis, since I hope to find a suitable therapist somewhere under the mysterious shadow of the Great Arch.
Friday, October 25, 2002
Pieces of this
I am quite self-involved, I suppose.
I'm also quite tired.
This Blog has slipped into a drought of interesting things. (Whether or not this Blog ever has interesting things in it, is a question you may be asking yourself right now.) No relationship quabbles, no homophobic Jacobs alum--just a steady stream of depression. Lalala...
I am quite self-involved, I suppose.
I'm also quite tired.
This Blog has slipped into a drought of interesting things. (Whether or not this Blog ever has interesting things in it, is a question you may be asking yourself right now.) No relationship quabbles, no homophobic Jacobs alum--just a steady stream of depression. Lalala...
Thursday, October 24, 2002
Bright lights, big book
I have a lot to study tonight. Namely, 200 pages of a condescending, elitist American Government book, a hoard of NYT articles, and some Federalist papers.
I just got off the phone with my parents. I've come to the conclusion that it is imperative that I seek some sort of psychological assistance with my ever-deteriorating emtional status. I shared that information with my mother, only to be "soothed" by her for 1/2 hour. Apparently, she and my father have been discussing this for weeks, but didn't know how to suggest to me that I needed therapy. And of course, my mother just assumes that the only issue I could ever have in my life is my sexuality. "Find someone who understands what you're going through, and isn't going to mess you up." I have to remember that they mean well. I cannot, unfortunately, imagine that Columbia has a wealth of psychiatrists. I may have to drive to St. Louis for all of my emtional needs. Who knows.
Zoloft, anyone?
I have a lot to study tonight. Namely, 200 pages of a condescending, elitist American Government book, a hoard of NYT articles, and some Federalist papers.
I just got off the phone with my parents. I've come to the conclusion that it is imperative that I seek some sort of psychological assistance with my ever-deteriorating emtional status. I shared that information with my mother, only to be "soothed" by her for 1/2 hour. Apparently, she and my father have been discussing this for weeks, but didn't know how to suggest to me that I needed therapy. And of course, my mother just assumes that the only issue I could ever have in my life is my sexuality. "Find someone who understands what you're going through, and isn't going to mess you up." I have to remember that they mean well. I cannot, unfortunately, imagine that Columbia has a wealth of psychiatrists. I may have to drive to St. Louis for all of my emtional needs. Who knows.
Zoloft, anyone?
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
I got nothing
Hump day came and went without any sort of interesting things to write about. Quelle surprise.
I took a nap for a few hours, and had at least a dozen dreams about Gwyneth Paltrow. Oh, and Erin has officially "quit" smoking. I'm skeptical about this, though, like I'm skeptical about every other person's vow to quit something that seems a necessary and enjoyable part of their life. Hmm.
That was the extent of my daily excitement. Keep reading, though! More fun to come!
Hump day came and went without any sort of interesting things to write about. Quelle surprise.
I took a nap for a few hours, and had at least a dozen dreams about Gwyneth Paltrow. Oh, and Erin has officially "quit" smoking. I'm skeptical about this, though, like I'm skeptical about every other person's vow to quit something that seems a necessary and enjoyable part of their life. Hmm.
That was the extent of my daily excitement. Keep reading, though! More fun to come!
Tuesday, October 22, 2002
News tighty-whities
It's a pun.
My last shift of work in grand 'ol Columbia's Gap store has been completed, as of 10:45 this evening. It was sort of bittersweet--while I was glad to be rid of their conservatism, double-standards, and long hours, I feel like I made a connection to everyone that works there--even the strange hyper-obsessive managers. I spoke to three of them over the past few days, and they all sounded disappointed--my store manager even asked if I would come back, and she hoped I'd change my mind about quitting soon. I don't think I will.
My good friend (although he'd beg to differ) Jesse has been called back to audition for Paula and the gang for the next season of "American Idol." This is uber-amazing, and I am both thrilled for him, and jealous of his success. Out of all of my friends, aquainances, and enemies, though, I am glad that he was the one to first taste glory and pride in his talents.
I spoke to Jillian, my best high-school friend, last night. She's hard to read, but I think she's relatively happy at Columbia (Chicago). if I can't get into Shannon's three-bedroom flat on Lake Shore Dr., I'd like to find an apartment to share with her.
Today, I purchased a heated blanket, a hairdryer and some curl-enhancing hair serum at the "mall." That's really not important though.
I always hear this random thumping on one of the lower floors in my building. It's really obnoxious, and I don't know what it is. Hammering at 11:30PM? I think not.
It's a pun.
My last shift of work in grand 'ol Columbia's Gap store has been completed, as of 10:45 this evening. It was sort of bittersweet--while I was glad to be rid of their conservatism, double-standards, and long hours, I feel like I made a connection to everyone that works there--even the strange hyper-obsessive managers. I spoke to three of them over the past few days, and they all sounded disappointed--my store manager even asked if I would come back, and she hoped I'd change my mind about quitting soon. I don't think I will.
My good friend (although he'd beg to differ) Jesse has been called back to audition for Paula and the gang for the next season of "American Idol." This is uber-amazing, and I am both thrilled for him, and jealous of his success. Out of all of my friends, aquainances, and enemies, though, I am glad that he was the one to first taste glory and pride in his talents.
I spoke to Jillian, my best high-school friend, last night. She's hard to read, but I think she's relatively happy at Columbia (Chicago). if I can't get into Shannon's three-bedroom flat on Lake Shore Dr., I'd like to find an apartment to share with her.
Today, I purchased a heated blanket, a hairdryer and some curl-enhancing hair serum at the "mall." That's really not important though.
I always hear this random thumping on one of the lower floors in my building. It's really obnoxious, and I don't know what it is. Hammering at 11:30PM? I think not.
"I Saved Public Radio"
I am now an official patron of Chicago Public Radio, and will be receiving fun things in the mail soon for my generous (as generous as a student budget can allow) donation, including a subscription to Newsweek and a membership card, which will entitle me to discounts at many of Chicago's cultural outlets. Plus, as an employee of the Gap Corporation, whatever I donate to WBEZ is matched in full. That in mind, I am contributing quite a bit to the future of NPR. Why don't you donate?
Don't I feel fratastic--I purchased, and am in love with, the Tenacious D album. Not only are they amusing, but their music would be great even if they didn't sing about gently fucking and wonderboy. I'm always interested in an artist at least six months after they've had their heyday--to most people, Tenacious D's novelty has already faded, but now I suddenly like them.
I have plans on Friday! A Missouri first!
I am now an official patron of Chicago Public Radio, and will be receiving fun things in the mail soon for my generous (as generous as a student budget can allow) donation, including a subscription to Newsweek and a membership card, which will entitle me to discounts at many of Chicago's cultural outlets. Plus, as an employee of the Gap Corporation, whatever I donate to WBEZ is matched in full. That in mind, I am contributing quite a bit to the future of NPR. Why don't you donate?
Don't I feel fratastic--I purchased, and am in love with, the Tenacious D album. Not only are they amusing, but their music would be great even if they didn't sing about gently fucking and wonderboy. I'm always interested in an artist at least six months after they've had their heyday--to most people, Tenacious D's novelty has already faded, but now I suddenly like them.
I have plans on Friday! A Missouri first!
Monday, October 21, 2002
Stephen King's playground
My seven hour drive back to Missouri ("home") with Erin was quite possibly the strangest experience ever. It included nice police officers, wrong turns everywhere that somehow led us on the right path, and large dead animals on the side of the road--three things that could never exist in real life. But, I'm back now, and for the first time, my bed here actually felt comforting and familiar.
My day was blurred by my (literally) painful lack of proper sleep.
I'm not in the mood to discuss the status of my relationship with a certain Duck...and, more than likely, anything I typed in my journal would be misconstrued. Essentially, as the cliche goes, trust is the foundation of a helathy relationship.
Off to Barnes and Noble to watch Erin and Jen study.
My seven hour drive back to Missouri ("home") with Erin was quite possibly the strangest experience ever. It included nice police officers, wrong turns everywhere that somehow led us on the right path, and large dead animals on the side of the road--three things that could never exist in real life. But, I'm back now, and for the first time, my bed here actually felt comforting and familiar.
My day was blurred by my (literally) painful lack of proper sleep.
I'm not in the mood to discuss the status of my relationship with a certain Duck...and, more than likely, anything I typed in my journal would be misconstrued. Essentially, as the cliche goes, trust is the foundation of a helathy relationship.
Off to Barnes and Noble to watch Erin and Jen study.