affectation.log

EGo: So... yeah. I'm fucked up. Took me a while just to get the template just for this entry. But people want me to write, so I'll write. I haven't drunk in a couple of hours, but I'm still fucked. [Yeah, so I got laughed at just there. I mistyped "fucked" pretty bad. ... Shut up.] So what do you want me to write? ... Lacy wants to write. Here goes:

Lacy: We are so... So messed up. EGo... is easier to spell than Emmanuel. Yeah. He's rubbing my head and hugging my neck at the moment. What do you do when you can't type right? ...On second thought. What do you do when the person you love keeps hurting you? Good sense tells you to run away, right? Is love possible without trust? All these stupid fucking questions without any fucking answers, said in my less than eloquent drunk-ass way.

EGo: Lacy's takin' a breather right now. So... allow me to retort. When the person you love keeps hurting you, it's time to step back and wonder how exactly you feel about said person. Okay, now Kate wants to type something.

Kate: I am Kate... I am not drunk... EGo is talking about how he used to shave his body because he was a very bored person... I really have nothing to say... Lacy's leg is on my leg... EGo was going to type more but his ass was shaking... Lacy likes this song a lot [Zebrahead, "What's Goin' On]... My friend is in England and I don't know why, and neither does he... Yo homie... EGo is going to die from sitting near the drinks... People are fucking people, but not really... Lacy said EGo can do whatever he wants to, I will leave that to your imagination... I have to go Lacy wants to write now so I have to go... Nice typing for you all to read... Bye Bye... ~Kate P.

Lacy: All right. This is Lacy again. Responding to EGo. See... the problem is, although it is cliche to say, love is blind. Problem I had with Whitney. You [EGo] probably know what I'm talking about. You don't know that it's a bad situation until you're out of it. So how the hell can I tell? Female intuition is shit. I don't think it really exists, so that's useless for me. Other people rarely tell me what they really think, so how can I derive help from them? Shit. I'm fucked.

EGo: Granted. Hindsight is 20/20. But you never hear anyone talk about "male intuition". That doesn't exist, either. So I guess neither gender knows shit about relationships, at least while they're in them. What do I think? Well, friends can rarely be objective anyway, so what's the point? From my perspective, it looks like the two of you are good together. But it could be my loneliness talking. So that's what I think. Any help? I doubt it.

Lacy: That's the problem with relationships. You never understand them unless you're actually in them. But then you never understand them yourself until you're out of them. This probably makes no sense since I'm still semi-drunk. Ah, crap. At least I know what I mean.

EGo: You're semi-drunk? Shit, I'm still fucked up. But yeah, I know what you mean. Perhaps not totally, but I think I understand what you've written.

EGo: Right. So anway, this is what we've written, as we've written it. For the most part. Let's stop now.

So yeah. Everything's done and wound down. Whoever's leaving has left, and whoever is staying is probably asleep. Except me. In the hiz-ouse is Lacy [naturally, it being her house and all], Jon, Brook and Candice. Other people have left. I'm just sitting here, in the basement, by myself. Somethin' feels weird. Heh.

I'm sober now. Completely. I stopped drinking way before midnight. And I vomited more than anyone. Actually, I was the only one to vomit, as far as I know. But I made up for everyone else. I pity Lacy's neighbor. And I didn't even touch some of the stuff I was planning to drink. Oh well.

All in all, I'd say this was the best New Years I've ever had. I didn't have anyone, but that's alright. I had plenty of people looking out for me, when I was under the influence and all. Lots of concern. It was nice. Very nice. I hope I wasn't too much of a pain for them.

Something else that was very nice, that I'll write down before I forget. Candice said that I was the sweetest boy she'd ever met. Aside from the re-phrasing [like she said "I" not "she", obviously], that's what she said. Now, remember a few things. A) It was obviously exaggeration. 2) She'd had at least one drink. And D) I was completely loaded. But it was still nice to hear. Even if I don't believe it myself, and I know just the people to ask who'd back me up on how much of an ass I am.

Other things to remember [not all of which are tied to tonight]: Jon [and a deputized Brook] keeping me from saying/doing anything I'd regret. A nice little talk I had in the car with Jon while errand-running. The lack of people laughing at my inebriated state. That top-knot I had [though the pictures will remind me of that later]. Respect. Trust. Bros before hoes. For real.

Well, I'm going to write a little for off-the-site. Then I'll hit a bed. Hope everyone else had a good one. I certainly did.

[Insert long, drawn-out, exasperated, depressed sigh here.]

Sorry for the song-lyric-only entries. They're just resonating with me. Brief explanations of my reasoning behind posting them. Very brief.

D Generation, "Cornered": Drunkeness, plain and simple. I been hittin' the bottle a lot since break started. Helps me deal. I don't necessarily recommend it.

Jets To Brazil, "Sea Anemone": Lyin' in bed, doing nothing all day. Sifting through memories, thinking. Feeling useless.

The Ataris, "1*15*96": This song brings up two girls in my mind. The first is Angie Piotrowski, a girl in my group when I was in Space Camp. Had a crush on her. We wrote to each other for a while after... then we just faded. I don't know who wrote last. I assume it was her. Anyway. The other girl it brings up is Katharine Clubb. Resident of Ewa Beach, Hawaii. ... I don't really talk about that, though. I just hint about it, vaguely... yeah.

Damn. That last one wasn't so brief.

But yeah. So... the more you know.

So I ended up passing three of six classes this semester. That's fine by me. Great, even. I know how bad it could've been.

Apparently it's not good enough for my parents. My father just came in my room. To summarize, he said I need to suck it up and deal. Then he tried the scared-straight approach. About how you can't do anything without a college degree, and how even a bachelor's isn't sufficient. So I pushed him out the door and locked it.

I almost just quoted DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince. Remember that song they did, "Parents Just Don't Understand"? Heh.

I've got to get out of here.

Thinking about it some more, I'd have to say that my favorite part of that conversation I had with my father a while ago was when he said, "What happened to you? You used to be smart."

I think of myself as a waste on many occasions. I'm not making the most of my potential, and all that. And I'm wasting all the effort and time and money my parents have put into me. Wasted opportunities is what this is about.

My parents, no doubt, have regrets about the way they've lived their lives. My father always wanted to be a doctor. And my mother wanted to be a journalist. But my father's family didn't have enough money for medical school and all that, so he took up chemistry. My mother knew being a journalist just wasn't practical enough and she'd probably never make it to the States doing that. So they gave up what they wanted to be.

And they made... me. And saved enough money for me to do whatever I wanted to with my life. And I've the opposite problem. The potential, but no drive.

So, uh, where am I going? I lost track... Okay. My parents wanted something better for me and my sister. That's one of those natural parental feelings. And in their mind, I'm sure every parent has a pre-conceived notion of just how they want their child to be. No doubt it's based on opportunities they'd passed up on the way. My father would like me to be a surgeon; my mother would like me to be a writer. I doubt either's going to happen.

It's just natural for parents to live vicariously through their children, I suppose. Kind of like how you'd feel if you could somehow talk to yourself in the past. Make sense? Yes, no?

Considering the quote Lacy put up on her page ["Boobies!", said by Tom Delonge], I thought the above was a suitable counterpart.

Yep. Jon, Lacy and I hung out. Hit the bottles. Watched movies. Watched Real Sex on HBO. Then some documentary on Woodstock. Good times, good times...

I am so fuckin' tired. I'm on the verge of collapse. Here I go...

Hope I don't break down.

I just woke up after sleeping for about... fifteen hours. And I had a lot of dreams. Vivid ones. I'm trying to piece them all together. Before I forget them.

The first one was at WPI. Didn't look it, though. But that's where it was. And for some reason I had a class from the previous term carrying over into this one. And there was work due. Lab reports. Lindsay was my lab partner, but I hadn't seen her in class. So I called her. Apparently she was mad at me. Why? According to her, we'd been out driving, just her and me. And I hadn't opened her car door for her. Well, not quite. I was in the passenger seat. And I hadn't unlocked the driver-side door for her. Yeah, that was it. Somehow this segued into...

A space station. It looked somewhat like L5 from that IMAX movie. The circular part had, at its center, this nice machine. It was virtual reality, whatever you dreamt up. There were eight pods for this machine, so only eight people could use it at a time. And each pod had a key that went with it. It seemed that four keys were lost, but the other four were the subject of much fighting on the station. There were three fucked-up creatures on board. Two were Sorlag and Doom, two of the characters from Quake. And the other was that female Venom-like creature from Spiderman's universe. And they ate humans. They also had one key each. The keys were these orange cards. As thick as 3.5" floppies, about 2" wide, and 3.5" long. You had to stick them into the control board, then go down two levels and enter the corresponding pod. So these things had keys. The fourth keys resurfaced, in the hands of Liz Cash [someone in LnL]. She was working with the creatures. So I fought her for it, and stole it. Then ran. So I had the four of them after me. Luckily some kind of armed force was invading the station, so that kept them somewhat distracted. I ran into some people I knew, around eight or so. I just remember Jon as one of them. I described the dilemma, and we decided to take the keys from the creatures by force. We were too late. The armed troops had seized the three keys and the machine. And they held some kind of public demonstration of it. So me and my people were there. The fourth key was tucked in my boot. After some talk, we had come to the conclusion that no one deserved the machine. So planted charges and blew it [and the station] up.

The next part of the dream was kind of based on Final Fantasy 5, plus some elements of FF2. But I can't remember much about it.

I remember even less about the last dream.

Damnit.

Yeah. Lacy gave me sais... fuckin' sweet.

Although, I'm not big into blades or pointy objects. I'm more of a gun man. Aww yeah... a handgun would be real sweet. Probably couldn't be trusted with it. Especially when I'm feelin' low. Oh well.

I'll just play with my sais.

Yep. I'm back in Worcester. Been here for about ... seven hours. Already falling back into the old rut. Yep.

Sigh.

I am so pathetic. Why am I still awake? It's not because I don't have bedsheets [I forgot them at my house]. It's because I'm waiting on a remote possibility. I know it's not going to happen... I just don't want to think about it. And I don't want to give up.

Like I said, I'm back in my rut. Almost fully, it seems.

Yeah... it's a real good thing I don't have a gun.

So I'm sitting here and I've got nothing to do. So I'm daydreaming. Or, just dreaming, as it were. The current fantasy I'm entertaining is going to sleep and waking up dead. Yeah, I know that's bad.

Just... close my eyes... let the darkness envelope me... permanently. In the fantasy there's a sudden bright light, and an angel. But that's not right. If there was a heaven and hell, I know which one I'd be going to, and there wouldn't be any choirs of angels there.

But it's nice to dream, isn't it...

My days as a minor are winding down... And I don't like it one bit. Birthdays have been nothing but pain for the last few years, when I realized just how much growing up sucks. Every year people expect more... I can't take it.

Pain and pleasure aren't always one and the same, sadly...

I hate this... The worrying. Over-analyzing. Picking apart words and actions. Finding meaning in every little thing. I just can't help it.

Yep... I can think myself into breaking down. Fan-fucking-tastic.

By the way, Lacy. Arwen's quote from the movie is "I would rather spend one lifetime with you than face all the ages of the world alone." Yep, definitely a good line.

Yeah, that's what I was scrawling during the movie.

Well, there was more. But that was something I was thinking about at the time other than the movie. ... Yeah.

I wonder how many times I can watch this one video over and over... It's Stabbing Westward, "So Far Away", if you didn't guess that. So far it's been somewhere between half an hour and an hour.

Look at me go...

I don't know what bothers me more: Having small talk... or not having it.

I'm feeling quite... rejected. Yeah, that's the word. I don't want to say anything, though. Because if I do, people are just going to tear it apart. And that'll just make me feel worse. So what's the point...

Heh. This entry of Liam's was just too perfect. Until tonight, everything except the first paragraph applied to me as well. And now that I've seen Amelie... the entire thing is applicable. [smile] Oh, and I love the entry's title. Hehe.

...

That's the sound of me kicking myself.

...

Yep, more kicking myself. I don't like to feel like a waste. A waste of time, a waste of resources. I don't like to waste other people's time either. Nor their resources.


That works on so many levels. ... Okay, not really many.

Kill me now.

Yep... now I'm legally accountable. And I can be drafted. But I can vote. [Well, if I cared.] And I can buy cigarettes. And porn. [But who buys porn nowadays?] ... Well, hooray for me. [Thick rivulets of sarcasm are running down my chin. Excuse me a moment.]

Hey, wait a minute... I can buy a gun now, can't I. [grin] ...

One of the cutest girls ever is asleep on my couch. Whenever she wakes up she apologizes for falling asleep and being a bad guest. I really don't mind. I like her being around. [Understatement in the extreme, I know.]

And no, I am not staring at her creepily all the time. Although I do turn to check when I hear her stir. And I did cover her with a blanket. That was nice. I mean, it felt nice.

She's so fuckin' cute, I'm going to lose my mind...

Anyway, I'm happy.

There was no intended perversion in this entry. Seriously.

Yeah, it's weird. I've gotten advice to not beat myself up, which to me means to not analyze myself. But I've also gotten advice to do deep analysis on myself, find out what makes me tick. I don't like to think about why I'm jealous or paranoid or selfish or needy or lonely or desperate or scared... I'm afraid that under my insecurity lies deeper insecurity.

Didn't doctors used to bleed patients to cure them? Maybe I just need some really old-fashioned medicine.

I just can't deal with inter-personal relationships. But I can't deal without them. I just can't deal. I can't...

So last night I was feeling a mite depressed. So Chad, Tzip and I mixed up some drinks, got tipsy. Didn't drink too much; none of us wanted make ourselves throw up. Dale tried a margarita, and actually found it not disagreeable. Chad and Tzip made some pretzels. Liam came over, and we watched Superman II. Classic.


Good stuff.

I had an... interesting dream last night. But since I don't really want to remember it, I'm not going to write it down. I'll just let it fade...

If you're trying to impress someone... make sure you can actually do it. Failing is just... really, really bad.

Remember that scene in Gattaca where Ethan Hawke gets off the treadmill? Yeah... kind of like that.

Counselor's conclusion: I need to spread myself out. Actually, it was my idea. But it has his full support. I need to do something, anything. Find people, hang out. Now... where do I start?

I could've quoted Good Charlotte, but I didn't want to do that again. [shrug]

I can't seem to find that balance between callous insensitivity and being so oversensitive I can't talk to people at all.

History may yet repeat. I really hope that it doesn't. But it might. I am such a dumbass.

... Yep, that's what the meetings are for. I was really, non-sarcastically, fuckin' frightened.

Yeah... not much has been happening that anyone'd care to know about. And the stuff that people might care to know about, I'm not going to write about, because I don't want criticism. And criticism would be all I'd get. So... yeah.

[screaming][crying][slamming head on desk]

Mood swings suck. Okay, maybe it's not really a mood swing.

Need to find that balance...

Apparently this song's about "taking a traumatic event and doing the cleanse you have to do in order to live through it—and learn from it [sic]". Well, according to Paul Durham. And he should know, seeing as how he wrote it. [shrugs]

I wish I was more stable. That my mood didn't drastically change at random times. Yeah... Sucks. I mean, I'm feeling alright now, but last night I was like... craptastic. And there's no telling how long I'll feel fine. Really sucks.

My arms hurt like a bitch. Went to the gym. Didn't really do that much, either. I'm just fuckin' weak. Oh well. That's the point of exercise.

Okay... my arms also seem to be vibrating. Interesting.

Tonight I was pacing the apartment, bored, restless. Lindsay wasn't in the best of moods and I was trying to cheer her up. Not very successful, really. But eventually she went out with me to play in the fresh snow. Mmm... fresh snow. Mmm... cute girl. Doh. My priorities were fucked up just there. Cute girl first, then snow. Yes.

So anyway, we got invited to join a game of football on the quad with a few guys and a couple of girls. That was fun. It was tackle. So basically, once they told me they were okay with it, I was jumpin' on people left and right. And I got knocked down too, but even that was fun. Definitely more fun when taken down by a girl, of course. Before I forget, I'll write down their names... there was Pete, Jeremy and ... Red [?], from Morgan 4th, and Amanda and Liz. I'm writing it down so I have some kind of reference in case it comes up again. But yeah. Snow tackling is fun. Heh. Got to try that again sometime.

So now that I've gotten out of my wet clothes [fortunately it didn't soak through much], I think I'll go to sleep. I'm content. There are some things troubling me about tonight, but I'm trying to keep them out of mind. I think I made Lindsay feel a little better too, so I'm comforted a bit by that. Of course, she could have been lying to me to make me feel better... but... Aaah! No! I'm thinking too much! Hopefully unconsciousness comes quickly.

Ah, shit. I lost my bullet-pendant last night. Time to go digging through a snow covered field for it...

After about ten minutes of brushing snow away from random locations where I thought I'd been taken down, I decided to forget about it for now. Maybe I'll find it when the snow melts. Or maybe someone's already found it and kept it. Maybe I'll find one somewhere else. Oh well.

But hey, if anyone comes across it walking through the quad, let me know...

Thanks.

Okay, so my moods aren't completely random... but right now I've hit another low point.

How true that is.

And, man, Liam, are you ever right. I shouldn't think about that. Unfortunately, I am thinking about it. But I don't know if I can bring myself to talk about it.

So yeah... I left the radio station around three a.m. ... Went down to Honey Farms with Liam around 3:40... Loitered there until six a.m. ... Hung out at his place until just past seven... And here I am. Back, after sunrise, as it turns out.

I am exhausted. But the talking was good.

Been a while since I'd seen that movie. Good shit.

Talk of housing next year is pissing me off. Or rather, it was tonight. But only when Dale opened his mouth. ... Oh, and also when Chad insisted Dale join the arrangement. Whatever. Eventually their talk pissed me off enough. So it's back to just me and Lindsay. Sure, having Tzip and Chad would've been nice. But I am not living with Dale again.

So lately I've been bored and playing Tekken 3 quite a bit. If anyone knows of an easier way to unlock Doc Boskonovitch without fighting through Tekken Force Mode four times... feel free to let me know. Note: the key word is easier. I've heard of a way involving throwing fights in Arcade Mode. And I know about the 700-battle release in Vs. Mode. The latter will be my last resort. The former's too damned hard [you have to let a computer-controlled opponent whittle you down to almost no life, then beat them].

I'm taking this test given to me by my counselor at the West Street House. It's supposed to tell you what kind of work would best suit you. I'm seeing just how few things there are that interest me. Too bad professional assassin's not on there...

Feeling like crap. Don't even know why. It just hit me out of nowhere. Well, not out of nowhere... Damned waves of depression.

So many things I could quote right now... Lots of songs by Stabbing Westward or Social Distortion... But I'll go with this:


Ignore the song's title. It doesn't apply. He's a cool guy. If only I wasn't so jealous of him.

I was debating putting up the conversation I just had. Tact got the better of me. So I didn't.

... But then I did.

I'd cite that quote right, if I knew where the sample came from. But oh well.

Current status: Sitting in my room, blasting Juno Reactor. It's the shiznit. And I'm feelin' low. A remedy is what I'm seekin'...


I often pick my lips to the bleeding point. Yep... alcohol and citrus burn like fuck. But whatever.

Yeah... the last post was pointless. The only reason I did it was because it'd been almost forty-eight hours since the last post. Really, not much's changing in my life. It's routine. Shitty, yes. But routine.

Side note: I've moved on to blasting Stabbing Westward.

That CD's the soundtrack to my fuckin' life.

About that last entry. To me, the song [or the chorus, rather] is about blood. Bleeding yourself. Doing anything for, offering yourself up to someone. Make sense? I know there are other ways you could interpret this. But I take my Stabbing Westward more seriously than other things.

Got a couple of things on my mind... My clingy-ness to Lindsay. I worry about being too clingy... She's just so fuckin' hug-able. And no, this is not me calling her fat.

A couple people I know are suspended from WPI. And I worry about failing out myself. Liam says the main reason he didn't pass is because he skipped classes due to "emotional reasons". And from what I know of his story... I'm on the same road as him. Or pretty close.


Side note: In a nine-hour Tekken-playing spree, Liam and I unlocked Doctor Boskonovitch. That was nuts. I was feelin' kind of shitty last night [Thursday night], so Liam came over, and we started playing Tekken. And kept playing. Unlocked Doc B. around two a.m. [with the 700-battle method]. After a while, we started doing Mokujin-on-Mokujin battles. Until nine o'clock in the morning. We got up to 430 consecutive battles. Fuckin' crazy. Would've kept going past nine, if I hadn't had a quiz at ten.

Right now I'm kind of worried. About when exactly I'll see Liam again. Since he had to move out today... Kind of makes me wish I'd said a better goodbye to him when he left this morning.

Had one of the most embarassingly awkward moments of my life this afternoon, after my economics test. Maybe I'll talk about it later. Not now. I'm kind of tired.

Just came on my playlist. Had to quote it.

After thinking about it more, I deleted the previous entry. What I left is a very brief summary.

Winamp dislikes me.

I feel like my mood could be depicted by a function like sin(x^3) or something. Sad, isn't it. On multiple levels.

... Can I have drugs now?

We're approaching the crest of the sine wave...

I think I'll take a walk and smoke, then cry myself to sleep...


Yep. Big plans for tonight...

Maybe I'll talk about this later. If anything comes of it... besides embarassment.

So Lindsay's computer is non-functional. We're supposed to check out this apartment listing tomorrow. I'm guessing that's not going to happen. In fact, I'm guessing we won't even see each other until the LnL meeting. Takers?

That thing I said before, about Stabbing Westward's self-titled album being the soundtrack to my life? That was a half-truth. Listen to the Ataris' Blue Skies, Broken Hearts... Next 12 Exits. Consider it volume two.

Apparently, I'm "so infuriating".

Perhaps. But I'm not the only one.

Got a regular study party going on here. Lindsay's on the sofa, doing what I'm guessing is kinematics work. Chad's got plenty of quantum chemistry work. And Dale's got a test in... some CS class tomorrow. Tzip's on Chad's bed doing some philosophy reading. The people who live here have cleverly found ways of avoiding work. Dale's engrossed himself in some Return To Castle Wolfenstein, and Chad's begun hitting the Red Dog. I don't have any work to do that's due anytime soon... So yeah. I took a couple shots of vodka. My head's swimming a bit.

Before I hit the vodka, I received proof that there was no way I could win with Lindsay. I can't really remember exactly how it went, though.

Yep. Real exciting...

Why do I ask questions I don't want to know the answers to? I tell myself I didn't really expect the answer I got. But I did [expect it]... kind of...

[screaming] Sigh.

I suck. In the figurative sense. I'm a horrible person. I've been thinking about whether people would be better off with minimal interaction with me. And so far, I think they would be. "People" is such a broad term. I'll be more specific. I think Lindsay would be better off not talking to me. Yeah. I'd probably be worse off, but I wouldn't make her feel bad. Or I wouldn't make her feel as bad as I do now, I think...

I know I'm not alone in thinking about dropping out. So who's with me? Just taking off, letting fortune take us somewhere. Nothing to lose but our lives...

And what are those really worth, anyway...

[points up] For your erudition.

Holy fuckin' shit. The world may be comin' to an end. I've already told most of you about the embarassing incident involving a girl in my economics class. Well, I talked to her today. And used... actual words! Her response was less than excited, and I may have well been just politely blown off. But I talked to a girl.

Weekend, phase one. Ritualistic self-abuse. Begin?

So what did I do? Well, I drank. But only a bit, and that was only at the start of the evening. Shortly after writing the last entry, in fact. Then I sat at my desk, let my mind pick at itself for a while.

Around 8:30 or so... Having been debating it for a while, I eventually went to go try to get a hug. I was denied. Usually two calls are enough. I guess she's finally learned...

Hung out with Ben the rest of the night, pretty much. Leaving Morgan shortly after entering, I went across the street, saw him sitting in the kitchen of E7. Gained admittance, smoked a bit with him. Frank came by, and the three of us went for coffee.

Six ounces of espresso perked me right up. Well... they didn't make me cheery, but they certainly gave me more energy with which to be caustic.

After hanging out for a bit at E7, I was invited [most likely out of pity] by Ben to hang out with him, Erica [his sort-of girlfriend], Kim [Erica's friend from high school] and Andrew [a guy who likes Kim]. After receiving some assurance that it would not be "weird and awkward", I agreed. We left E7 around midnight.

Got to Institute shortly thereafter. It was slightly awkward. But I did expect it. And when they paired off, I didn't really care. Watched Booty Call. It was... uh... interesting. I had time to think about a few things.

... Yeah.

So the movie ended... and I left... and here I am. I think I'll go to bed. The caffeine's still keeping me going. [At least, I'm assuming that's the caffeine.] ... Well, and the fear of sleep...

Last night I had a fucked-up dream. I was fleeing New Jersey with some other guy who I don't recognize now. And we plowed into a snowbank, wrecking the car and somehow throwing us out of it. So we wake up and we don't know where the fuck we are. Additionally... the snow's gone. It's spring. We're in a park, and lying around is our bags and shit from the car. And two guys come up and steal the bags and walk off. So we give chase. This turns into a shoot-out across a street. This guy [the one I was fleeing with] is utterly useless. I seem to be the only one firing. And I'm hitting the robbers. The bullets just don't have any visible effect on them. Eventually, I run out of clips. I turn to my friend for some... and he's gone. But standing there is Lindsay. I shit you not. And she gives me a few clips. So I tell her to take cover, then reload and fire some more. Next thing I know, some friend of the robbers has Lindsay, with a gun to her. I put my gun to him. Then one of the robbers comes up and puts his gun to me. So... uh... yeah, we're screwed. And it's clear no one's backing down. I somehow know these guys aren't letting us live no matter what. So I fire. And she gets hit. And I get hit. And lying there, I watch her die. That's when I woke up.

Incidentally, what I woke up to was the phone ringing. Chad picked it up. It was Lindsay. Not a surprise; who else would it be? I was just left in a fuckin' daze. And that was the wondrous start of my day.


Right. So anyway. I was going to bed. I hope my dreams are less disturbing tonight.

It still works, a month and a half later.

So... yeah. Superbowl Sunday. Here it's quite an event, what with the Patriots in it and all. I couldn't care less. Actually, I could care less. If the Patriots weren't in it, I would [care less]. But since they are, I'm hoping they'll lose. That ought to leave an air of depression. And that would kind of make me feel better.

Right now I'm sitting in my apartment, bored. Because of the Superbowl, the 6:30 movie got pushed to 2:30. So that's why I actually woke up this morning. Got nothing to do until nine, when I have to head back to the booth for the 9:30. After that, I've got my radio show.

A couple of days ago, my plans for living with Lindsay next year became uncertain. We didn't really talk about it. I want to finish that conversation. I don't know how to bring it up, though. As to how I feel about it, yes, I still want to live with her. So... for me, the only question is whether she still wants to. Yep...

On a side note, last night I broke my old landspeed record. The fastest I've gone on land is now 105 miles per hour. This was accomplished in Matt's Honda Accord. Plans to break this new record are already underway.

I don't really have much to say... I've pretty much reached a standstill.

I guess that "Maybe" last Friday was a blow-off. Well, judging from her reaction in class today. That being casual indifference. Note however that I didn't talk to her. That was her reaction on walking into class. And I was debating talking to her again today, but I was kind of discouraged by the whole lack of recognition thing. That plus, she rushed out the other door after class. There are two doors to the hall, and the hall's somewhere in Washburn. I don't know my way around Washburn. And the door she didn't leave through's the one I use because I can find my way in and out of the building from there. That was another reason I didn't follow or anything. Fiddlesticks.

Her face lit up and she hugged me. I'd walk hours in the cold for that.

If you need math credit, I suggest MA2251 with Konstantin A. Lurie. I don't think he's really trying to teach anything. There's a weekly quiz, open book. Each quiz is two questions from the book, verbatim. The best part is that all the answers are in the back. I thought I'd have to study for the midterm, so I did last night. I didn't learn a thing. I show up to the test this morning, sit there looking at it for a while, panicking. Then Lurie says "Oh, and you can use your notes and books as needed." This kind of makes lectures unnecessary. The questions on the test weren't right out of the book, but they weren't the kind that required a deep understanding of the material. Just look up the methods, and plug in the specifics. Woot.

Sometimes I feel like fuckin' modeling clay. Cheap, disposable modeling clay, at that. Ah, there we go. Play-Doh.

I suck...

My reasons to stay are slowly fading. Dropping out is seeming more and more viable. Well, not viable. "Appealing" is more appropriate.

Sigh.

That color test was right. Both, really. I feel trapped... neglected... exhausted...

I can't really talk to anyone. I've got the almost constant urge to curl up in a ball and cry...

What I want is just never going to happen. Secondary goals... well, doesn't look like that's going to happen either. Tertiary, I don't even know about that.

And I'd be less vague, but you probably know what I'm talking about anyway. And if I were more blunt about it, I'd just get yelled at. Which kind of brings me back to not being able to talk to anyone...

I'm just... blocked at every turn. Yes, it seems so...

Could quote so many things now... I'll just tick some off. Stabbing Westward, "So Far Away", Lit, "Addicted", Tool, "Stinkfist", Poison, "Every Rose Has Its Thorn", D Generation, "Cornered"... I've already quoted most of them though, so I won't again now. If you want, just look back, they're there.

This entry kind of sucks, yes. It would've been the same if I just recorded me screaming and posted that.


Yeah. Just imagine me screaming. Really loud, and fairly long. Throw in a pinch of sobbing. Bingo.

Talked to Lauren [Econ. girl] today. Yeah, didn't go too well... I'm questioning whether or not I should continue and risk further failure/disappointment/embarassment, or just give up... I don't know.

And on a side note, Chad approves of her. She's got a nice ass, according to him. Exact words. Heh. I haven't really noticed that. Not that I'm really that much of an ass guy, anyway. ... I don't know. I just found it funny. I wasn't even there. Chad was at dinner and was just drawn to some girl's ass. Tzip was the one who noticed it was Lauren. I'd say you had to be there. But I wasn't there myself. [shrug]

I guess it's good I'm not really anyone's go-to guy... I'd probably be rather ineffectual. Doesn't make me stop wishing it weren't the case...

No, that whole song doesn't capture the way I feel. If I thought more, I could probably come up with a better quote. The sentiment I'm trying to express is something like, if I knew how to make you feel better and could do it, I would... Or I'd try to...

Shut up. I am trying.

I've written about the dream with Lindsay dying already. What I didn't say was that it was a recurring thing. I've had a similar dream for the past few nights. Well, except this morning. But that dream was fucked up in its own right. Anyway. Chad summarized it the best: "You're just afraid of losing her." And I am... Fuckin' terrified.

So I ain't in Massachusetts. I be in Rhode Island. Saves The Day concert. Woo! Well, tonight. "Woo!" in advance. Hopefully it won't be as bad as when American Hi-Fi played at WPI. That sucked. But it's good to see Jon again.

Didn't end up going to a gay bar last night. I don't know why they decided not to go, but I couldn't have gone anyway. [I still don't have an ID.] So we just hung out. Went to Walmart at three in the morning. Was cool.

Right now I'm hangin' in Jon's room while he takes a shower. Figured I'd just let people know I didn't die or something. I see my idle time on AIM's something like thirteen hours. So yeah. I'll be back Monday morning. But I'll probably post something between now and then anyway.

So... yeah... I think I pissed someone off again. But I'm pretty sure of it this time. And by pretty, I mean very.

And by someone... I mean Lindsay.

Duh.

So the concert itself was good. Musically, I mean. Although I wish Saves The Day had played "You Vandal". Guess the crowd just wouldn't have really responded to the line about waking up to the smell of New Jersey. Oh well.

In my day at URI, I've probably seen more girls than I have in a year and a half at WPI. Sad...

So anyway, at the concert Amie and I were checkin' out girls. I saw this really really cute one. She was security, standing right at the stage's edge. Amie offered to talk to her for me. Not completely, just ask her if she was single. So I was like, "Whoa, cool," and gave her the go-ahead.

She [Amie] reported back that she'd told the cute girl [whose name is Jess; I got her name from her security badge] that a friend of hers [Amie's] thought that she [Jess] was really cute, and was wondering if she [Jess] was single. Jess answered that she was unattached and "possibly looking". So yeah. So I was still too nervous to talk to her. But then Amie pushed me out of my seat and toward her. So I basically stood in front of her for a while, as she talked to other people. I didn't want to interrupt. Plus, I couldn't really think of anything to say.

So I waited until she wasn't talking to anyone. This was right before the Saves The Day set. So I managed to say to her, "Did a girl just tell you that a friend of hers thought you were cute?" She responded in the affirmative. So I went, "Yeah. That'd be me." And she kind of smiled, but didn't say anything. Then the set started. So... didn't really talk. And after the set, she went up on stage to consult with other security people. Didn't even glance at me... so I left. Sigh.

I should stop trying to talk to girls. Period. No good comes of it.

Smoking outside Jon's dorm today I met this guy. Apparently he has a few percocets that he doesn't really want too much. I asked him for one and he said sure... but I haven't seen him. Damn. I'm afraid to go to sleep. But I guess I should. I was hoping drug-induced sleep would be better.

On a side note, I didn't have the dream last night. But that was probably because I kept waking up every half hour or so. Jon kept stirring, and we were on a waterbed. So he shook the whole thing. Yeah, I'm shit tired. But I'm keeping myself awake...

I've got a philosophy quiz at noon on Descartes' Meditations On First Philosophy, and I haven't even finished it. I'll probably have one on Rousseau's Discourse On Inequality soon, and I haven't cracked that one. Oh, and at three tomorrow afternoon I've got an economics test. Woo-fuckin'-hoo.

I don't want to be hit. I'm not saying that anyone should do anything to me. I just came across this now, catching up on G-S' site; it made me smile. I'm going to go lie down. Maybe fatigue'll overpower fear. The fear's strong tonight, though. Then again, so's the fatigue. It should be quite a fight.

Next year's so unplanned. I don't know where I'm going to live. Or even if I'm going to be here. One day I'll be able turn and walk away without looking back. But I can't bring myself to that yet.

I just woke up. I'm late to my noon class. But I had to write this down. Had a troubling dream. Lindsay didn't die in this one, but it was similar. And more disturbing because it was more realis— ...plausible. It didn't leave me dazed. Right now I just want to cry... But I guess I'll go to Philosophy.

Yeah, my whole time period system needs a bit of re-thinking. But anyway. I ain't going to Philosophy. I'm a half-hour late. For reference, I got out of bed at 12:05. Started typing the entry below. Got dressed... and now I'm too late. So fuck it.

I'm sorry, it's how I feel. When your nightmares become real... what do you do? When what you've been afraid of for the last few months happens... I guess the meetings weren't really helpful... I don't know... I... just don't know what to say. I don't want to write anything that'll bother Lindsay. The reason I have this site is so people know what's up with me. How I'm feeling. Generally it's shitty, yes. So I won't say too much. Lindsay called, said being friends shouldn't cause so much pain, so she was thinking we should stop. Nothing I could really say to that. So... yeah, that's what's up with me...

I promised her I'd live through the night. So I will... Or die trying.

Levity.

I shit you not. My ass is bleeding. How exactly I managed this... I don't know. It doesn't seem very severe...

Well, this adds to the levity, if anything.

But I'm not kidding.

Oh, yay. Valentine's Day. I wonder how much weird shit I'll get for having valentine@wpi.edu.

It seems each year, the holidays just get worse...

For a while I had Saves The Day's "All I'm Losing Is Me" up here. But I felt this was more apropos.

... Valentine's Day sucks.

... Love is wrong.

... And girls are fu— Bleh.


Got to give credit where credit's due.

Chains of association suck. An example: over this summer, a cup of tea on the stove at my house reminded me I'm a horrible son. The chain went like this: Cup of tea, unfinished. Why's it there? My mother must have made it before going to work. Why's it there? She must have left for work before finishing it. She works insane hours. Why does she work insane hours? To put me through college. And what am I doing here? Wasting that money and effort of hers. Yeah. I reached that point about five seconds after glancing at the cup.

So Chad, Dale, Tzip and I were sitting around the apartment last night. And the people upstairs are being loud, moving furniture or something noisy. And I say concrete would be much better as a floor/ceiling instead of plaster. Then Chad goes, "What, you mean like Stoddard?" So I go, "No, Morgan has concrete ceilings too." Which makes me think of lying on the carpets in Morgan. Sleeping on the floor in Morgan 203 last year. And that just brought me down. Not that I was feeling great to begin with...

And walking back from my hour-and-a-half-long advising session just now, I saw signs for Alice In Wonderland... and that reminded me again...

I don't think I can do this...

[screaming]

Everywhere, more chains. I'm just looking at my desk... I see a nearly week-old empty can of Barq's... Six tubes of Soccomm-branded chapstick... A receipt from Borders...

Fuckin' A...

So why'd I shut my site down? Well, it was there to let people know how I feel. But now I figure if you care enough about me to check the site on a daily basis, you care enough to talk to me. Of course, in conversation I probably won't let on as much as I did writing on the site. But whatever. I need to learn to suppress things better anyway.

Reading some Gibson has brought up some old memories... Like Lindsay crying on my shoulder a long time ago. It was only back in November. Seems like forever. That night... God... I remember... Getting back to my computer, seeing the message to call her. Which was odd. Calling her, and then her crying... and me running over... and the feeling of her in my arms and her head on my shoulder...

The memory chains happen even quicker. Kind of like how something burns faster if you soak it in gasoline...

Jump to December eighth. A meeting in the wedge, the one where I asked Lindsay to give me a situation where I could sacrifice myself for her. The one where she admitted things were better when we talked to each other... Guess they weren't better, after all...

To later that day. Watching It on TV with her. Getting scared shitless. Us playing in the first snow fall. Standing outside Alumni Gym, watching snow fall past the floodlights attached to the outside of the building. Her commenting on how beautiful that was...

To January nineteenth. Persuading her to play in the freshly falling snow with me. Walking and talking for a while. Playing tackle football on the quad.

To December tenth. Me asking her out. Again. Breaking down in the police station. Smoking the last of my Bali Hais walking up the hill outside Boynton Hall, watching the sun rise...

To the first time I asked her out. Freshman year. Right after giving her four bags of M&Ms... 'Cause she was feeling kind of down. I'd asked her to talk outside for a bit. I didn't want to do it in front of everyone. Her saying she didn't think of me that way...

To all the times she'd tell me about guys she had crushes on...

To January twenty-fourth. Two thousand and one, January twenty-fourth. When she said "fuck you". Or really, due to a typo that made me smile at the time, "fuck youi". The LnL elections later that day, we sat outside alone while Sarah gave her speech. Dead silence... Silence that lasted for months.

To this new silence...

To every time she's called me immature. Well, thinking about it harder, it's only really been twice, and only once was she actually talking to me. The other time it was to Liam, but I was there at the time. Hearing that hurts... I can't really explain why. But it does.

To January eleventh. This most recent January eleventh. Her coming back from dinner with Zac, stopping by my apartment. Her crashing on the couch here. Me putting a blanket on her. Her waking up and leaving sometime around five a.m., but not before having a Twinkie.

To the box of Twinkies that's still in my desk drawer. Three left. I don't eat 'em. Don't like 'em.

To buying said Twinkies with her at the Chopper... She wanted a box of Twinkies. And I saw it was cheaper to buy two boxes than to buy one. She only wanted one box, though. So I just bought one on impulse. I think I did actually eat one of them; it was as vile as I remembered. She ate six. Not bad. Maybe I should give her the rest. But seeing her... hurts.

And yeah, you're saying, "if seeing her hurts, you guys should just not be friends." But what hurts is the fact that we're not. And the way that she could just... detach. That hurts, too.

As per usual... this isn't going anywhere. I think I'll just lie down.

As I sit here at four in the morning, poring over the section of Applicable Complex Variables textbook called "Calculation of Residues" and not understanding one word of it, my mind wanders. Okay, it's been wandering for about six hours, but still. What do I want? Do I want to do proofs for the rest of my life? Hell fuckin' no. Do I want to be an actuary? Negative. I was wondering about transferring. Try to get into Cooper Union's school of architecture. They accepted me once. Never know. But then I wondered, would I want to be an architect? Not really.

What the fuck do I want? The results from the "Strong Interests and Skills Confidence" test the counselors here at WPI gave me indicate that the specific areas and activities I have the most interest in are producing/enjoying visual art and working with computers. So, what could I do to combine those two? I know there are jobs out there that involves making pictures with computers, like being a character designer for a videogame company or something. But along those lines... web design. That'd be a sweet job. But there aren't really school offering a major in web design, are there...

What do I want to do... it all comes back to that. What I really want to do isn't a job description. What I want to do is have a perfect moment. A moment that I know will be the zenith of my life. Right now... my perfect moment consists of a gray sky, a floor-to-ceiling plate-glass view of a city from damned high. Lying in bed. Not alone. Just the two of us, lying there. That would be the zenith of my life. Then I'd know everything I'd done was worth it...

Then again, I'm pretty fucking tired and my brain's fucking fried from all the MA4291 I've been trying to do... And failing. So this isn't exactly a moment of clarity.

Then again... it might be.

I just got back from a spur-of-the-moment trip to Boston with Liam and Paul. What did I learn from this trip? People are evil. And unless someone shows otherwise, you should expect the worst of them. Also, my hate for cities was renewed. We got to Boston around eleven, we went to an aracde and played until two a.m., then headed back to the car. We see this "Fleet CareVan" idling at the curb. Paul goes, "I wonder what a CareVan is." My response: "I don't know." Paul: "You should ask." So I see this woman walking away from it. So I ask, "What's a CareVan?" And she says they give food and directions and stuff. Some sort of Meals-On-Wheels, I guess. Owned by Fleet. Kind of odd. So then we're standing there. Because this woman has not walked away. And she begins. To bleed us. We get some story about how she was beaten or something, supposedly robbed. And she's trying to get to Connecticut. Riiight...

So we need to get back to the car. We start walking. She follows. Keeps asking for help. We were planning on taking the T back to where we'd park, but the trains had stopped running by then. So I ask Liam how we're getting back to the car. He says, taxi. Unfortunately, when he says this, he includes the words, "He has money." The he in that case is me. And the woman hears this. So she changes to asking us for money to take the bus to CT. And she will not go away. In the end, we ended up giving her forty dollars. She wanted $12.50. I had a few singles and a twenty. So I gave her the twenty. And unbeknownst to me, Paul also gave her a twenty. [Why exactly he did this, I don't know. He might have given it to her before I gave her money, though.] So, anyway, she got forty fucking dollars! [scream] I cannot believe the aggravation we went through just because none of us had the balls to say, "Fucking go away, bitch."

Paul says he needs to learn to trust himself more. Like, his instincts. And Liam says he was the only one who actually believed her. Unfortunately, he was the only one who didn't have money at the time. And me... like Paul, I knew she was full of shit. But I didn't say anything. Because I just couldn't. I'm not the type to speak up. So... I paid. Sigh.

I hate cities.

So I've got a date tomorrow night. And fuck yeah, I'm excited about that. Her name's Andrea. She's a Bio major. A frosh. EMS first responder. Funny. Cute. Mm.

But what I'm feeling more as the date approaches is raw fear. I realize I've never really been on an actual date. I went out with Heather... but we met when we hooked up [as much as I hate that phrase, it best fits the situation] at a party. We never really went on a date until well into our relationship, and then things were more secure and comfortable. Kate and I just kind of hung out a lot. Never really did anything date-like. So yeah, I've never really been in the awkward first-date situation. And I am fuckin' scared.

What are we going to talk about? What am I going to wear? What should we do? How should I act? Should I cut back on the cursing? Should I be myself? I don't know what to do...

Out of sheer panic, I went to the supermarket and got a big case of Oxy pads, a fresh bottle of shampoo, a new stick of antiperspirant, and a tube of Chapstick. This was at one a.m.

In fact, it just occurred to me that I should start using the Chapstick and Oxy pads now. Since they aren't exactly immediate. So I am. Using them, I mean.

I am such a wreck.

So my roommates and I were taking TheSpark.com's gender test. The questions were choose-option-A-or-option-B. One was whether you'd rather be completely and forever alone, or be bleeding to death. Which do you think I picked?

So a while ago I checked Lindsay's profile on AOL. She recently changed her "Marital Status" from something along the lines of "happily single" to "very happily attached". And while this isn't exactly news... I can't stop feeling hurt. I guess I'm not over her. Of course, there never was anything between us that I would need to get over. Much as I wanted there to be.

Well, then there's that... And by "that", I mean whether I really think we'd have been good together. I don't really think I'd be good for anyone. But Lindsay's... a fucking great girl. And I'd do anything to make her happy... Heh. Guess that's what I did. She seemed happy freshman year when we weren't talking. And she certainly seems happy now, though that's not my doing. All I ever did was bring her down.

So I'm re-taking my driver's permit written test. Dodged passing it by one question last time. Hopefully it'll be more alcohol-related questions this time. I owned those questions.

I've recently acquired the following: Better Than Ezra's Friction, Baby, Mike Ness' Under The Influences, The Promise Ring's Wood/Water, and Remy Zero's Villa Elaine and The Golden Hum. I got the Remy Zero 'cause I saw them on a late-night show performing "Perfect Memory". For most of it, it was just the lead singer/guitarist. And that, I felt. But with the CD... eh. It's still good. But just not the same. I've been listening to Counting Crows' Across A Wire double-CD set a lot lately. All the songs are just overflowing with feeling. Can not get enough of that.

As you can probably see, I've switched over to using PHP instead of XSSI. For a long time the prospect of looking through the PHP docs scared me. But I finally dug through it, and I'm getting to know all the cool fuckin' shit I can do with PHP. Finished the tracker I started on back in the day. Made a counter. I've been thinking about having a system for comments. But I don't really want that kind of feedback, so it's probably not going to get any thought. Same with authentication.

I read once in an old issue of Wired something like "Get lean, get stripped down, live on nothing. Forget about love. Forget about food. Forget about poetry. Forget about politics. Focus. One snickers bar daily, one jackoff, one Dilbert cartoon." I don't know if this is verbatim. But it sounds... like a good plan.

I went out with Jon and Lacy tonight. At some point we had Jimmy Eat World's Bleed American on in the car. [That's right: Bleed American. I refuse to call it their self-titled. I'm still pissed off about September 11. I don't mean anything about the attack itself or the death. What pisses me off is the fact that people have become sensitive fucks 'cause of it. Quit your fuckin' whining.] Well, anyway. Listening to Bleed American, that was my favorite moment of the evening. Yes, it was better than romping around Home Depot at one in the morning, getting materials for the sled. And why... well, I just have a good memory from last summer associated with that CD. Jon might remember. He was there. Or anyone who remembers the old entry I wrote about it when it happened. It was a fairly long entry, as I recall. Ah, music, the great automatic.


Of course... that's what that song's about. Music evoking memories, I mean. Or rather, the power of music in general.

Oh, yeah, and the Promise Ring kicks ass, too. ... And that wasn't as unrelated as you might think. Check the liner notes.

Another week, another stab at the permit test. Blah. I don't want to drive. And I'm sure you don't want me out on the road, either. No doubt you've seen my nervous twitches. And my frequent lapses in concentration.

... Not to mention the almost-narcoleptic tendency I have to fall asleep.

Yeah, so I passed this time. Road test is in December. ... I don't know if I'll be on break by then, though. We'll see. I'll have to schedule shit around, I suppose.

Curiosity got the best of me. Turns out my winter break starts the 13th. Plenty of time to get home. No extra effort for me. Woot.

Almost forgot what the date was. ... Happy birthday, Lindsay.

I dig the Powerpuff Girls. They're just so cute. Oh, and 'cause I'm a budding pedophile, of course. Man, why can't I find a girl with cool superpowers? Damnit. Supposedly they're everywhere. Okay, maybe not everywhere. But with the ambient radiation here in Jersey I figure there've got to be a few around...

Anyway, can't wait 'til the movie comes out.

I don't remember always finding Back To The Future such a depressing movie. Hm. I guess when I first saw it I had no idea about things like bad relationships. Or maybe I just blocked out the initial scene with Marty's family. Hit a little close to home. Granted, my mother's not an alcoholic... And my father doesn't have a supervisor like Biff.


But I do wish I had a time machine to give them some kind of domestic bliss. And having a mentor like Doc would be pretty cool, too.

I do this to myself... Sigh.

Oddly, I never had rock star aspirations back in the day. But recently I have thought about it. Probably because I know other people who have such dreams. And in my current mindset... I'd sell out in a second. Hm. Dignity versus being adored [albeit fleeting]. Real tough call.

For no particular reason, I was browsing Entertainment Weekly's archives. In additon to looking at pictures of Pamela Anderson with some of her ex's and reading about Robin Tunney, I read about Star Wars merchandise. Damn, I want my own R2 unit. And a B-wing. B-wings owned.

Cold sushi. Is there a better breakfast? I think not. I dig spicy tuna rolls. And since I've been to Sukeroku six times in the last two weeks, they've become part of my "usual". The other part being tekka maki. Which is good, but not as good as the spicy tuna. Mm-mm.

Last night Lacy and I finished making the pseudo-sled [also known as the Chariot of the Gods, and the Cock Rocket]. Jon, Lacy, and I tested it out tonight. Works pretty well. The steering's a bit sketchy at times. If you twist too hard, it does jack. We couldn't find a really steep hill though. We scoped the two hills behind the iris garden, but they weren't satisfactory. Then we went to a hill near Jon's old house. That was decent. All of us going on it at once wasn't such a bright idea, though. But it held together. Woo. We're not incompetent.

I want to take it on a road. There're plenty of steep roads. Only concern I've got is stopping before hitting an intersection. Twisting the steering hard should be enough to stop it, though.

And we need more padding. And a rope for it. 'Cause dragging it back up the hill'd be much easier.

Ack, my pupils are dilated. Everything's all fuckin' bright.

Currently in Thai Chef on Bloomfield Avenue. And I'm feelin' fine. Hm.

My desert-island, all-time top-five favorite albums are as follows:
      1) Stabbing Westward, Stabbing Westward
      2) Black Lab, Your Body Above Me
      3) Counting Crows, Across A Wire: Live In New York
      4) Crystal Method, Vegas
      5) The Ataris, Blue Skies, Broken Hearts... Next 12 Exits

At the moment, of course.

I wonder when exactly I learned what a whore was. Curse words I know I learned from my father... probably. But I wonder about the other words, the ones that aren't curses, but are supposedly "vulgar". I hope I never went up to my parents and said something like, "Mom, Dad, what's felching?" [shudder] Too... precocious...

Within the last couple of days, I've talked to a couple girls I haven't been in touch with in years. Jen Racine and Ariana Lamb. Heh. Had crushes on both of them, back in the day. At different times. Made a date with Jen for next Friday, to catch up. [That's a date in the doing-something-together sense. I could say appointment. But that's a little different.]

I went to see Windtalkers today. [Not one of John Woo's best. Or one of Nicolas Cage's. Oh well. It made my father cry.] Anyway, since I was at Loews, I looked around to see if Ari was working today. I didn't see her on the way into the theater. On the way out, I took another quick look around. I'd heard she cut her hair really short, but I couldn't really picture this in my mind. So I look around. Nothin'. On the way out the door, I hear a familiar voice from the ticket booth. Wow. Yeah, of course it was her. Didn't really look like her. Reminded me of a red-haired Neil Patrick Harris. Crazy.

So I walk up to the ticketbooth, wait in line. My turn comes up. She says, "Can I help you?" To which I respond by just standing there, smiling. Eventually there's a flash of recognition somewhere. "You grew your hair out." "And you... cut yours. Heh." The shit was shot for a while. 'Til I noticed I was holding the line up. Don't want her to get fired or nothin'. So I got her email address. Hers is back to what she was using back in... '96, I think.

Huh. A short while ago [talkin' a week ago, maybe two] I put my feet on the lower shelf of my desk. My foot got this photo stuck to it. It's from '97. From a trip to Six Flags Great Adventure at the end of freshman year, to be more precise. A hand dominates most of the shot. It's Ari's, holding a piece of cotton candy. Either I was much shorter than I remember, or I ducked for the shot, 'cause it was taken from half-way down her chest, pointing straight up her at face. Her eyes are half-closed; either she's laughing, or that's some really good cotton candy. Yeah, freshman year was when I had a crush on her. Those were some good times...

Saw the Powerpuff Girls Movie today. Twice. They're too cute. Too many little kids at the movie theater though. For some reason one kid in the row in front of me sprang up in the middle of the movie and started jumping on his seat. Then there was all the random screaming... Sigh. So the movie was great. The girls are damned cute. The jokes aren't childish, for the most part. The only part that bothered me was the seizure-inducing strobe effect. Gave me a headache.

But I'd see it again. And I'll get a good boot as soon as I can. And when it comes out on DVD... oh yeah. That'll be the shit.

Went out with Jen today. She's as cute as I remember. Her hair's lighter, longer. But otherwise, she's the same girl I used to pass notes with during fencing matches [both of us warmed bench regularly]. Yep. We caught up, talked about what's happened to us in the past year or so. Went walkin' 'round the mall [Willowbrook]. I suggested we check out things she could put in her newly-pierced belly button. Granted, she can't change it for six months, but it was still fun. She had to be at work [volunteering at the Verona EMS um... thing], so we hung out for a couple hours. It was... very nice.

Lacy wants an update. But I don't have anything to say. The days just fly by. Weekends I have to drive. Driving pisses me off to no end. Recently got the idea to start a collective online journal with Lacy. Been trying to think of how to go about that. The back-end ideas are not forthcoming, but perhaps they will be with additional reading of the PHP manual. [shrug]

Been home for more than two months now. And I've done almost nothing. Only about a month and a half more until I'm back in Worcester.

I think I'll drink a bottle of wine, watch TV and go to bed...

Just got Counting Crows' latest. Me getting it so late isn't due to any refusal to download early releases. I just have a fuckin' dialup at home. And most people on IRC have a bandwidth floor on people pulling from them. But yeah, I've been listening to it. According to Duritz, the album's supposed to be about "the sweetness and the difficulty of memories". Mm... I don't know. But it's making me cry. So it's good.


I'm going to see them in concert tomorrow morning. They're playing Bryant Park in NYC at seven. Part of that Good Morning America free concert series. Counting Crows puts on a very moving live show, if Across A Wire's any indication. I hope it's not just them performing a couple of songs for the show. I mean, Counting Crows advertises it on their site as being from 7am to 9am. So I don't know. I hope it's a full concert. But we'll see.

I've got a Bubbles! She's about five inches tall. Not the plush kind. Hard plastic. Somewhat posable. Even the pigtails can move! Permanent smile. Incredibly cute. She's sitting on the second monitor on my desk. Didn't want her on the main one; don't want her to melt or deform. Also have a set of slightly smaller Powerpuff Girl dolls on skateboards. Their faces seem fucked up, though.

So I was training back to Newark from Princeton Junction yesterday afternoon. Struck up a conversation with this girl at the station. She had to borrow my cellphone and I had to borrow her lighter. She was interesting. Her name was— Okay, well, I guess we never exchanged names. She was in Princeton interviewing for a waitressing job at some snobby-sounding restaurant. She went to Rutgers, was 25. Had taken a few years off because, like a lot of people I know, including myself, she didn't know what she wanted to do. But unlike me, she's found something. Psychology. Hm. Nah.

I don't know. The conversation ended abruptly when my train arrived. It was just odd, since I can't recall the last time I spoke with someone I didn't know. In fact, I don't even speak with people I do know all that often. Anyway, I wrote this for my benefit, mostly. I wouldn't remember it if I didn't write it down. Other than this, the only remnant is the two outgoing calls from my phone. I'll put those down here, for giggles and shits. 609.883.3387, and 732.259.3479. [shrug] I don't even know who they are, though I suspect the former is her house. The latter must've been whoever was picking her up at her train stop.

There are all those songs about growing up and growing apart. I guess for most people, they're true. I admit, I haven't talked to most people I went to school with in years. Then again, I didn't really talk to them back when I went to school with them. Anyway, I'm glad I still talk to and do things with Jon and Lacy. Probably do more with them now than I did during high school. Maybe one day, we'll actually get a band together. Or live together somewhere. Even if we don't, we'll probably stay in touch. And that's comforting.

Heh. So I saw a cute girl on the train. She didn't really remind me of anyone. Maybe Maura Tierney. A little. And the sun was rising, not setting. [shrug] True to form, I think I creeped her out. Ah, well.

So, I saw her again on the ride home.

Why do I do this?

So I say to her, "I'm sorry if I creeped you out at all today. My name's Emmanuel." She pretends not to hear me. I think about repeating myself, but out loud this time. I decide to keep walking.

So the cute girl was there again this morning. She takes the path train down to Newark from New York City, then takes another train to Princeton Junction and transfers to Princeton. Must be a damn long commute. Wonder why I never noticed her before, if she takes the same train I do everyday.

So this is no good. If she were just randomly on the same train and I never saw her again, that would be better. Now, I'm just going to obsess.

So I have a cyst in my right nipple. It's kind of nasty. Initially I thought it was a poorly-located mosquito bite. Then it got sore, and my parents got concerned. So I had to go see the doctor. Like the time they thought I had anthrax. Sigh. At least the doctor was this hot thirtyish woman. Mmm. In fact, when I went to the doctor's last Wednesday night, everyone on duty was female. And many were hot. Mmm.

So, yeah, attractive doctor felt my boob. Said it might be a cyst. Referred me to some place I could get an ultrasound of it. So that's what I did today instead of work. Fun. There was this nasty gel smeared over my chest. And then the picture wasn't clear, so I had to have this big, thick rubber disk on it [approximately three-fouths of an inch thick and four inches in diameter]. Kept slipping. So I had to lie at this awkward angle to keep it from sliding off. Meh. Pictures were taken, sent to the doc. I'll know what the dilly is soon enough.

Actually, this isn't the first time this has happened. I get these... cysts, I guess, sporadically. In the past, I gave 'em time and they disappeared on their own. I told the hot doc this; she said sometimes the body just re-absorbs the cyst. Hm. She also said some people are, to use her term, "cysty", and are prone to get cysts. [shrug]

Back in high school, a little family was conceived. There were the "children"... me, Jon, Lacy, Belle, Whitney... and the "parents"... Ari, Jen, Abby, Siobhan. I like to think that it all started with me. Ari said I was her "baby". And Jon and Lacy were my brothers. And, in my mind, that was where it began. Ari and Jen dated, so that made her our mother as well. Ari, Abby, and Siobhan made a trio of like minds, so those two also became our mothers. Belle was adopted as a younger sister and I'm not sure when, but so was Whitney [as an older sister... older than me, anyway].

I've had a crush on most of these family members at some point in time. Ari was the first. Freshman year. I've talked about it before. But then she started dating girls... and, well, my crush stopped and I was simply... crushed. The next one was a couple years later. Jen. She was in fencing and... well, big crush. I remember serious pangs of jealousy when Greg went for her. Sometime later, I had a crush on Abby... and in the summer after my freshman year of college, I came back home and developed a crush on Belle.

My crushes don't really go away. They linger... and eat away at me. If I think too much, I could fall back into them just like that...

I put a few CDs on the changer [Better Than Ezra's Friction, Baby, Counting Crows' Recovering The Satellites, Dashboard Confessional's So Impossible EP, Promise Ring's Wood/Water, and Remy Zero's The Golden Hum]. Counting Crows' "Monkey" just came up and made me think of something. What the fuck kind of pet name is "monkey"? It's what Adam Duritz called Courtney Cox; Chad calls Tzip a little monkey. Is this a compliment? The fuck?

Okay, so I had this dream last night. A very long, very vivid dream. For the moment, I can remember the details of the city that parts of it were in. Anyway, the overall premise was that I was on this dating show. The dating show took six people, three guys and three girls, and basically kept them together for a week. Had them stay in the same hotels, go to the same clubs, etc. The players are to pair off on their own. I think there's a show like this already, but I don't know the name. For some reason, I didn't know it was a show at first. I thought I had just run into these people. One of the other guys was Liam. So one of the girls started talking to me. The details of the conversation escape me, but I guess I mentioned my sucktacular high school fencing career, because she challenged me to a duel. Liam gave me a thumbs-up.

The duel was a long part of the dream because I kept having equipment malfunctions. The tip of my foil got stuck, and two hits I made didn't register. The duel went on for a while. She was winning... And that's when my father woke me up. After groaning and shooing him off, I went back to sleep.

But, of course, I couldn't return to the exact same dream. I was still in the dating game. Liam, gone. In his place, Jon. We were in one of the hotels. Or rather, I was in one of the hotels. I knew everyone was staying here, but I was wandering the lobby alone. It seemed more like a library; there were shelves filled with books everywhere. I also couldn't find my way out. There were intricately designed stairs all over the place, but they were all blocked off. Apparently they were just for decoration. Eventually I found an elevator along the wall.

Fencing girl had written her room number on my hand. It was a bit blurred now, but still readable. The number escapes me, but it was a five-digit number starting with a nine. So I went to that room and knocked. No answer. So I went back to my room. I don't even remember where my room was. I just sat there for a while.

Next thing I know, I'm on the dating game's bus with all the other players. Jon doesn't recognize me. I go sit by myself and think about how I'm the most pathetic dating game contestant ever. Fencing girl is all over some other guy. Guess that explains why there wasn't an answer at her door. But another girl talks to me. Her name's Amy. Her hair was dark blonde [guess the term's dirty blonde, but I'm avoiding that particular phrase]; her eyes were a pale blue. Disarmingly cute. And she was talking to me. Only after the initial shock wears off do I register what she's saying. It's flirty small talk; I shouldn't expect different on a dating show. So we talk for a few minutes, and then we arrive at the next show-mandated activity.

And the activity is kart racing. In pairs, of course. Oddly there are now seven people. I notice this because one guy ends up alone. Fortunately, it's not me, because Amy picks me! I let her drive. It's fun; we get second place. She rocks. She rocks so hard. Next there's show-mandated clubbing. Amy sticks with me. And she likes to kiss. I'm definitely not complaining.

There's a timelapse. We spend the remainder of the week together. The show ends. More timelapse... We go out. More timelapse... she asks me to marry her. It's so perfect I want to cry. I didn't, then, just responded in the affirmative. I did cry shortly after, when I woke up and wasn't tired enough to go back to sleep. And now.

I find myself avoiding sleep again. Unlike last time, when I was avoiding bad dreams, now I'm afraid of good dreams. I'm afraid of another dream like last night. Waking up'd be too much disappointment to handle.

So dazed this morning. I succeeded in not sleeping last night. I actually tried to around four, but it was a no-go. So I didn't suffer any dreams, nor any disappointment. I am, however, seriously out of it.

What brightened my morning was this: The office I work in is incredibly small [only forty or so people], so it's relatively tight-knit. Everyone says good morning, there's plenty of chatter... So anyway, I'm walking in this morning, nodding/mini-bowing to people as I pass, as this is all I'm capable of. I walk past this cute girl [well, woman, I guess... I've no idea her age, but I'm guessing late twenties at the earliest] and she turns, so I nod. And she smiles. A big smile, almost a grin. And it seemed genuine, not just a you're-creepy-now-go-away smile. And that cheered me up.

Behold. The power of girls.

A couple of non sequiturs:

If I ever become a professional web designer [or anything else where my company ends in the word "productions"], I think I'll name my company Nine Point Nine Five Productions. You remember that scene at the end of the first Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie where Casey and April kiss, and the turtles start cheering? Then Donatello says, "I give it a nine point nine five." I think that was him, anyway. I haven't seen that movie in a long time. So yeah, because of that line and the song by Spunkadelic that plays immediately afterwards.

Item the second. Waiting at Penn Station this morning, I was casually staring at that girl. And I guess she got restless or something, because she started rocking back and forth. Like, from balancing on her heels to balancing on the balls of her feet. For some reason I found this extremely cute.

So, remember my cyst? Ultrasound results are back. Doctors are concerned. More tests are forthcoming. More poking and prodding. As I was telling my sister, I hope the doctors say it's nothing. And I hope I then die from breast cancer. And then my parents sue. And make assloads of money. Maybe they can turn a profit on my life. 'Cause we all know there's no chance of profit if I live.

Another day, another crush. Her name's Ewa Pawlek [pronounced ehva pav-lik]. Or maybe it's Pawelek. Long blond hair, dark eyes. She was our waitress at dinner tonight. She's a local girl, raised [and maybe born] in Clifton. Goes to school at Montclair State and lives at home. She'll be a junior in the fall, like me, which would place her age around twenty. She's got to pick a major soon; until now she's been focusing on completing her gen. ed. requirements. She's thinking about majoring in finance, though that means she'll have to take statistics...

That's all I remember now. The rest's slipping. It'll be gone by tomorrow, and the cache'll be fresh for another girl.

Sigh.

One of those grim reminders of mortality... My next-door neighbor just got hauled off in an ambulance. He wasn't in a bag, though, so he could be alright.

It's my last week in Jersey before heading back up to MA. So many things to do... I'll write them here so I don't forget them.

1) Get bedsheets for a full.
2) Hang out with people.
3) Make sure Jon pays Lacy $10.
4) Get lamps [floor and desk].
5) Get guitar cable, tuner and strap. Maybe not tuner.
6) Eliminate anything possibly incriminating from my computer at work.
7) Email Jen.
8) Install shit on Jon's computer.
9) Copy CDs for my sister.
A) Rip Heroes And Villains.
B) Get my shirt back from Ari.
C) Pack.

No doubt I'm forgetting a few things.

Five-minute-later update...
1) Get bedsheets for a full.
2) Hang out with people.
3) Make sure Jon pays Lacy $10.
4) Get lamps [floor and desk].
5) Get guitar cable, tuner and strap. Maybe not tuner.
6) Eliminate anything possibly incriminating from my computer at work.
7) Email Jen.
8) Install shit on Jon's computer.
9) Copy CDs for my sister.
A) Rip Heroes And Villains.
B) Get my shirt back from Ari.
C) Pack.

Look at me fly.

I want a fake ID so I can go here.

Progress:
1) Get bedsheets for a full.
2) Hang out with people.
3) Make sure Jon pays Lacy $10.
4) Get lamps [floor and desk].
5) Get guitar cable, tuner and strap. Maybe not tuner.
6) Eliminate anything possibly incriminating from my computer at work.
7) Email Jen.
8) Install shit on Jon's computer.
9) Copy CDs for my sister.
A) Rip Heroes And Villains.
B) Get my shirt back from Ari.
C) Give Heroes Die back to Lacy.
D) Get High Fidelity back from Lacy.
E) Pack.

I had a weird dream yesterday. It wasn't bad or good, really. Just weird. And vivid. I was some kind of demon/vampire hunter. But there was something else doing my job for me. So this vampire girl wanted my help killing this other person. Why I'd even want to kill this other hunter is beyond me. But vampire girl was hot. ... Maybe that's why.

So we follow the rogue to a train station. He jumps on as it's leaving. And we run after it and try to jump on the end, but it doesn't work, and we end up on the wall of the tracks. [Confusing term, there... um... you know how train platforms are raised from the track? Well, we'd be on the side of the track, below the platform.] And I don't know why, but we don't climb up. Instead, we inch along the wall.

Another train passes by. We hug the wall to avoid being crushed, then grab the tail of the train as it passes. The train appears to be empty. And around here, it switches from being a train on tracks to some kind of cable-suspended train. A really fast, cable-suspended train. And from the announcement on the PA, we're in Denver. There's nothing to hold on to in the train, so it's a wild ride. The train seems to be accelerating.

After a while, we're in San Francisco, identifiable only because we're on the Golden Gate Bridge. Still on the train. Still on a cable. The train's cable runs alongside the suspension cables of the bridge. But it's connected much more loosely. Because we're flying up the cable, and upon hitting the top of the tower, the car continues its path, dragging train cable behind it. And so, we're in freefall. I'm holding vampire girl's hand. And we're both screaming. This is where I wake up.

So I'm standing here, waiting to get off the train at Newark. Cute girl's standing not three feet away. Just staring out the window, also waiting to leave. Sigh.

Must... remain... standing...

Apparently word's circulated around the office that this is my last day. Which it is. But people I've never met are now talking to me. Example: Walking in this morning, I stop in the kitchen area to drop an empty in the recycling bin. Random blond freckled guy starts talking to me. Asks me about college, etc. Now, I don't mind; it's not like I'm terribly busy. But people shouldn't feel obligated to talk to me just because it's my last day. There's something just so insincere about it. Then again, I'm one to talk...

So a couple of days ago, I realized if I don't talk to train station girl I might never see her again. So I've been walking up to her and sulking away... well, I don't get too close, so I don't think she noticed. I gave up on that. So on the ride to Newark Wednesday afternoon I wrote a note to her. I'll sum it up using a quote from Alex Holz's unfinished screenplay [as best I can remember it].


Apologies, Holz, if I fucked it up too much.

So anyway, I wrote her this note. You know, I'd like to talk to you, but I don't know where to begin... yeah... So I had planned to give it to her then, as she was sitting right behind me. I hesitated. For half an hour. I just slipped it into my bag and let it sit for a couple days. Saw her Thursday morning and afternoon, thought about giving it to her. Hesitated some more. Actually, I'd planned on digging up Holz's quote [I think I have it from an away message of his] and re-writing the note Thursday night. But I never got around to it.

So this morning was the absolute last time I was sure I'd see her. [I leave the office early on Friday, take an earlier train, so I don't see her. She takes the 17:50 out of Princeton Junction everyday.] So, as the train pulled into Newark this morning, I walked up to her, tapped her shoulder and handed it to her. She looked down at it, and I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact. I just turned and walked down to the next open train door. Perhaps I shouldn't have worn my Ataris shirt today [the one that says "you're better off without me" on the back].

I just put my finger on who she really reminds me of. Karina Milchman. History goes in circles. At least this time I didn't use any Lord Byron. And I delivered it myself, instead of using a go-between [Hasani] or leaving it someplace only she would find it [i.e., a locker]. Of course, if I knew a place where I could have left this recent note, I'd have probably chickened out and done that.

I wonder if Karen Ellsworth [x8045] will talk to me today, just because it's my last day. I'd like that. But I doubt it'll happen. That turning-and-smiling thing was a one-time event. Although, passing by her desk this morning, I noticed her hair. It's real purdy. Brown with sun-bleached streaks...

Daydreaming is fun. Pointless and disappointing, ultimately, but fun in the short term.

Progress:
1) Get bedsheets for a full.
2) Hang out with people. [Sort of.]
3) Make sure Jon pays Lacy $10. [I had no part, but it got taken care of.]
4) Get lamps [floor and desk].
5) Get guitar cable, tuner and strap. Maybe not tuner.
6) Eliminate anything possibly incriminating from my computer at work.
7) Email Jen.
8) Install shit on Jon's computer.
9) Copy CDs for my sister.
A) Rip Heroes And Villains.
B) Get my shirt back from Ari.
C) Give Heroes Die back to Lacy.
D) Get High Fidelity back from Lacy.
E) Pack. [I'm still in the middle of that, but it feels nice to cross things off.]

I'm rather unenthused about the prospect of returning to Worcester. I think I've reached a point where I don't care about Lindsay anymore [kind of like last summer], so that shouldn't be bad. But it's the academics. I haven't completed my sufficiency in German yet, nor have I any ideas on what to do for my IQP and MQP. Plus, I'm down a few credits from the whole debacle last fall... I might have to overload. Sigh.

And I want to apply for the NSA program for math majors for next summer. Even if I find a second professor to write me a recommendation [I'm fairly sure I can get one from my advisor], my grades ought to make sure I don't get in. They already rejected me once, when I applied straight out of high school. And that was back when my grades were decent.

Plus, I feel like this summer was a waste. I think back to last summer, and all the concerts and crap that I went to with friends. This summer, there was definitely less concerts. But that was alright; there was still hanging out. But for some reason, the hanging out just wasn't... as vibrant. For one thing, whenever we [Jon, Lacy, myself] hung out with people from high school, we felt old. Used to think I'd never feel old. So there was that... And there was a lot of dead air hanging out, too. I don't know. It was kind of depressing. Can't really say we're growing apart. 'Cause there's still contact. It's like we're sinking into a rut.


A summary. Outlook for fall semester bleak. Job prospect for next summer unlikely. Wish summer had been better.

It's go time.

Well, today sucked. For the most part. At least I didn't have to spend the ride up to Worcester with my parents. Rode with my sister. Sang along to Everclear [Sparkle And Fade] and Madonna [Immaculate Collection] to stay awake. That was fun. But ugh... after putting together furniture with my parents, I'm glad I don't have to deal with them for a month or so.

I am going to kill my parents. ... Okay, probably just yell at them. But a lot.

So yesterday, unpacking the minifridge for my room, I open it a crack. It smells atrocious. But I don't think much of it. I put it on the porch for some short-term storage while I get my room in order.

I came back to it today. Tonight, really. Anyway, I open it. There's this black liquid on the bottom. And the smell damn near knocks me unconscious. Holding my nose, I inspect further. There's this black shit coming out of the bottom of the freezer. Well, hmm. That's odd. I walk away from the fridge, take in some fresher air. Come back. Open freezer. Black plastic-wrapped packages...

Meat. Dear god. This meat had been sitting in an unplugged freezer for half a week. In hot weather. I almost vomited. I cleaned it out with some Lysol and Palmolive, then coated it with some more Lysol. A flatmate of mine, Paul, had lit up some incense in an effort to defeat the stench, which lingers.

[Insert screaming here.] God damn, the smell's still pretty strong. It already defeated the baking soda that was in there. Or is that baking powder? Anyway, I fear that victory may have just made it stronger.

A piece of delayed news. This afternoon, I hooked up my computer. It was the first thing I put together. Aside from my desk. So I check my mail. Guess what draws my attention first. "From the girl with the red backpack". So for the next few minutes I hopped around expressing excitement. And explaining the story to flatmates who couldn't care less. But eventually, I read it.

She's twenty-eight. And happily married. Drat. She also has a doctorate from Princeton. Crazy. She's doing some post-doctorate work at Princeton. Hence the daily train-riding. But I was wrong. She wasn't taking the path train from New York; she must have been coming in from Hoboken. As that's where she lives. With her happily married-to spouse. ... Maybe I shouldn't dwell on that.

As Liam points out, I "changed that girl's life". From her letter: "I will hold onto it [the note] because it does mean something to me." And yeah... that's touching.

Her letter kind of leaves it open as to whether or not I'm supposed to respond. I have no idea what I could say that would interest a 28-year-old married woman with a doctorate in art history. Then again, I have no idea what I have to say that's of interest to anyone.

Found it.

Yeah. That's the way I am. If I stop coming into regular contact with people, I go, "Do I really have anything relevant to say to them?" And almost always, the answer is no. So I don't try to contact them. And when they don't try to contact me, I take this as a sign that they don't want to talk to me. Eventually, they join the ranks of my former acquaintances.

This came up because my sister had asked how I came to be living with a bunch of people I didn't really know. I told her that they had offered me a place, and I had no better place to live. Everyone I knew had their own groups established. Okay. Yes. I did get offered a place in West Street. But then Lindsay said she wanted to live together. And of course, I jumped at that. Then that fizzled... And well, if you don't know about it already, I don't feel like going over it again.

Anyway, I've always had trouble breaking into pre-established groups. I assume everyone does. They all know each other, and you're just left out. If they don't make special accomodations, take the effort to include you, you just kind of drift off. And one day, you just vanish, and no one notices. It's just another sad fact of life.

I don't remember what the point was that I was trying to make with this entry. But maybe you'll feel my wave of depression and sympathize. And then our waves of depression will resonate and crush all the shiny happy people. Mm.

My plans for a milk-crate and pressboard bedframe have come to fruition! Over the past three nights, I've stolen enough milk crates [six] to put it together. Eight might be necessary; we'll see how much the boards sag. So yeah, I just put it together by myself. Worship me. I now have a bed to sleep in.

God damn, I'm tired. I should probably go to sleep. What with my eight o'clock class in the morning. But I might to Honey Farms with Liam instead. Maybe. We'll see. I'm just going to sit here for a while.

So, yeah, my full bed's together now. No more sleeping in my chair. The only problem is that the bed's too big. You know, I'm not exactly a big guy. I don't even take up half the bed. Just makes me feel lonely. Nevermind that I've only actually spent the night with someone a few times. It's still a reminder of being single. Damn it.

When I was a freshman walking around orientation, there was a girl with her hair dyed like a rainbow. Naturally, she drew my attention. In the following weeks/years, I saw her occasionally. She bleached her hair blond, dyed it neon blue, bright red, green... She was so fuckin' cute...

She is fuckin' cute. She's in my probability class. Which means I'll see her everyday. Mmm. And I just noticed she has a tattoo on her lower back. For some reason, I really like those.

For those of you who guessed at what I was up to last night... incorrect. The answers given were "drinking heavily", "masturbating", and simply "booze". No. What I was doing was listening to depressing songs and spiraling. I thought the quote from the Ataris'd be a giveaway. I once looped "Looking Back On Today" for three hours and cried. I might not have told you the story before. But, eh, I thought I told a lot of people. So that's that.

Exploitation Now ended today. So sad. I really like that comic. Well, not the campy beginning, but the later chapters, with the melodrama. That's the stuff. I'm definitely a Jordan fanboy. Hm... I only thought of Cowboy Bebop when writing this entry, but Exploitation Now's ending story arc is kind of similar to Cowboy Bebop. Not in the rip-off way. I like them both.

My weekend was uneventful. I've been playing Grand Theft Auto III a lot, and so far the bulk of my time has been in the subquests. Like collecting cars and bringing them to the docks. The optional gang missions. The unique stunts. The "hidden packages" that look suspiciously like cocaine. The next largest chunk of my playing time has been devoted to whore killing. That's just plain fun.

Tonight I went to the later movie. I missed the first one; I fell asleep at my computer around five. The only people at the nine-thirty were Lindsay and Rob. And I discoverd that distance had made it easier. It's a lot different when we're in the same room. I can keep it together if I don't look at her, keep interaction to a minimum. Of course, then I seem rude.


I decided to put off my first radio show of the year. I just didn't feel like it. I know I'm disappointing my fans. All... one of you. But I got done rewinding and repackaging the reel at eleven-fifty, and I figured the campus center'd be closed by then anyway. Also, now that I'm not on the WPI LAN anymore, I can't access my MP3s like before. This means I either need to plan out my shows in advance and burn them onto CD, or burn my entire collection onto CDs and bring them to the station. Neither option sounds particularly appealing.


I have to finish this Linear Programming homework before eight. I don't think I'll be sleeping. Sigh...

It's the third day of class, and I've already started to ignore my alarm clock. This is not good. I woke up at 13:45. Missed two classes. Sigh. Year's off to a great start.

I finished my Linear Programming work at three-thirty. I got into bed and began trying to sleep at four-thirty. What followed was two hours of tossing and turning. I gave up when I noticed it was light out. So tired. And cranky. Damn it.

Ugh. Felt some stinging on my leg just now. Inspected. Apparently I scratched my skin to shit in a lot of places while I was half-conscious. These places will be covered with clothes, but I anticipate plenty of pain anyway. This is what happens when I don't trim my nails regularly. I forgot my cutters at home. But my parents should be bringing them up in a second shipment this Friday, when they pass through Worcester on their way to Maine.

And my day is off to a great fuckin' start.

Earlier this afternoon...

Latest crush-of-the-moment: Kerry Mason, waitress at Sole Proprietor. [My parents came up to visit on their way to Maine; we went out to dinner.] So my father asks me, "You think our waitress is cute?" I go, "Yeah." So the next time she comes to our table, the first thing he says is "My son thinks you're cute." I had to hide my face in shame. Couldn't even make eye contact with her after that. She responds, "Your son's cute, too." But her fifteen percent was on the line; she had to say shit like that.

Anyway. She's half-Irish, half-English. From the "north shore" of Massachusetts, whatever that means. Graduated last year from Boston University [age estimate: 23]. Political science major. It was, in fact, her last day working at Sole Proprietor. She'll be taking a vacation for a couple of weeks, then she'll start temping. She's hoping to work somewhere with tuition reimbursement, or at a college. So she can continue studying. She wants to move back to eastern MA, but she's living in Worcester because it's cheaper and she has student loans to pay off. She kind of reminded me of Jamie Comasco, a girl I went to elementary school with. Looks-wise. I could see Jamie growing up to look like Kerry.

So my father keeps asking me if he should ask her for her number. I respond with, "Just be quiet, Dad." He goes on to talk about how he thinks Kerry would make a good daughter-in-law. He then goes on to criticize every girl I've ever had a crush on.


Well... actually... On the list of family dinners in Go family history, this one doesn't rate all that bad. Almost enjoyable.

The note-leaver strikes again! So Liam and I went to Bickford's for dinner. And the girl who seated us was fuckin' cute. She had cute glasses. And she had her hair up and held with a stick. Just... cute. I told Liam the story with my father at dinner last night. So he urges me to talk to this girl. Unfortunately, she's not our waitress; she was just the seater-person. Our waitress' name was Ashley, and she was sort of cute. As Liam pointed out, she was a little dorky, but that would just add to the cuteness. Ashley was alright. But the other girl... Sigh.

Other girl offers me a balloon. [They had had a birthday at Bickford's, and there were balloons all over the wall that they were taking down.] So cute. Liam says she likes me and I should go for it.

Normally, I'd just stare at the girl a little, and forget about her. But Liam keeps egging me on. I become obsessed. Well, more obsessed. I make us sit and wait to see if she'll come by. She does, but I don't really say anything. I keep worrying about being rude. So eventually, it's time to go. Liam suggests leaving a note. I can do that. I think I can do that.

So he gets me a pen. I realize I don't want our waitress to think the note is to her. But I don't know other girl's name. I make Liam use his eagle eyes on her nametag next time she comes around. [I just can't look at nametags. It's like staring at a girl's chest. And if they notice, they get the wrong idea and you're a jackass.] Anyway, her name's Amber.

Ashley ends up leaving, and so Amber's now our waitress. I still don't want the note to fall into a random person's hands. So I write it and leave it under my empty coffee cup.

The note goes something like this. It's similar to the one I gave the girl with the red backpack: "Amber... Have you ever been in a diner and you see someone you want to talk to, but you can't think of anything to say and you're too nervous to talk to them anyway? Well... you might not be that sort of person. You might go up and talk to them... You can see I'm not like that, I guess. Well, if you know any good conversation starters, let me know. -Emmanuel, valentine@wpi.edu, 973.930.5826"

Thanks, Holz. Please don't hurt me.

Now, Liam says, the problem is remaining cool as we leave. Which I somehat manage to do. We go to the register. I'm doing alright. But then I look back at the table. The note's gone. And so I begin to panic. Okay, fine... And so I continue to panic. I look down at the register and try to calm down, and not look around for her. Afraid of eye contact. I hear giggling from the kitchen, and I think I heard "Come here and look at this" preceding it. Trying to remain calm. Want to leave. Want to leave fast. Woman at register is computing something. But we make it out... And it's done.

So yeah... and the situation with the red backpack girl makes me wonder what I'll say to Amber if she replies. Even if I make connections, I'm no good at maintaining them. Sigh.

Last night, or this morning, around six a.m., I locked myself out of my apartment. I went down to Honey Farms with Liam and forgot my keys. So Liam let me crash on the couch at his place. Unfortunately, his flatmates have a couple of kittens. One was lazy. I liked that one. The other was hyperactive. Jumped all over the fuckin' place. Add this to the fact I'm allergic to cats. So it wasn't very fun. I managed to get a few minutes of sleep here and there. At eleven this morning, hyperactive cat decided to knock over some tray of rocks that was on the table, making a loud clatter. After picking them up, I decided to leave. I banged on the door of my apartment and called until I dragged Paul out of bed and to the door. And yes, when I first locked myself out, we tried waking up Paul up to let me in, but he didn't answer.

This is the most I've been out of my apartment this weekend. Sigh.

I just found out that Andrea never listened to that tape I made for her at the end of last year. I'm disappointed, but not surprised. It's like some fucked-up inverse law: the more effort I put into it, the less likely it is for girls to notice. Times like this I wonder if Katy McHugh ever listened to the tape I made for her back in middle school. Or if any of the other girls I made mixtapes for ever listened to them. Somehow, I doubt any of them quite got around to it...

I just watched Serendipity, actually. And, like all John Cusack movies I've seen, I loved it. And Kate Beckinsale was incredibly cute. Sigh.

Damn these movies. Makin' me expect more from life...

I need alcohol now.

Liam just came back from hanging with the Christian Bible Fellowship. Told me he'd stopped by Bickford's. Apparently Amber was there. And she recognized him. And asked him his name.

This is great. She hasn't tried to contact me, so she's just not interested in that. But she remembered us enough to know what we look like. But she didn't know which one left the note... Well, not until now. I'm so damned scared of going there now...

So Amber asks Liam his name last night. This leaves the people he's there with wondering what that was all about. These people are the Christian Bible Fellowship. And as I recently found out, Andrea's in the CBF. Liam told them the story with my father and him egging me on and me developing the obsessive crush, but he didn't tell them my name. I wonder how Andrea would react. Or if she'd care at all. [shrug]

Christ. Why do I have to get a crush on every girl I meet or see in passing? And they're all taken. Most recently I've fallen for a girl on a forum I semi-frequent. She's cute. She games. She has an acerbic wit. Sigh. Well, this is doing me no good except insuring me a long cold shower.

On a side note. You might have noticed I finally polished the old mockup I had. Finally. A site. I haven't had one since... February. Heh. Actually, I was thinking about this before. I have people coming here who might never have seen that old stuff. There were reasons it was taken down, but... well those reasons have made it clear they want nothing to do with me anymore. So a poll: who wants me to convert my old sites' archives and upload them here? I'm not going to write some PHP code for this. Drop me a line at valentine@wpi.edu and tell me.

I'm not exactly sober. But the caffeine and the alcohol are fighting over my state of consciousness. It's better than the Murphy versus Occam fight. I think I'll lie down in my big empty bed...

Let me just drive the point home some more.


Ah, crap. Promise Ring's "Things Just Getting Good" came up. This song reminds me of the girl with the red backpack. It was one of the songs on my Rio most of this past summer. So I heard it a lot during the commute. I still haven't written her back. Sigh.

So I wrote back to the girl in the red backpack last night. Damn. That phrase is so long. I'll call her Torie. That's how she signed her letter. So anyway, I wrote back to Torie finally. Last night. While intoxicated. Lacy checked it over for me so I didn't write something stupid. Lacy suggested I not give the link to my site in my signature. I don't think Torie would bother to read my site, but then again, I didn't think she'd write me back. If she writes back again, I'll put the link in my reply's signature. And if she digs around, she'll see the entries about her. Wonder what she'd think of those.

I've had that line stuck in my head all day. The song was playing when I dragged my ass out of bed.

So the zoning out continues. I see a girl, I start to daydream... and I'm gone for like, a half-hour. I think the desperation/loneliness has eaten away my sanity to critical levels. Liberal applications of C2H5OH seem to help, but unfortunately, that won't work in the long term. I'm running out, and I've got no one to buy.

I still need cigarettes. Damn it.

So I'm walking on campus after German. A guy approaches me and asks me what I'm doing for PE credit this term. I say, "Nothing." He says I should join crew and be a coxswain. He was in awe of my scrawniness [under one hundred and ten pounds]. So there was some informational session tonight... and I missed it. Crap. So I emailed the coach. But really, how many really scrawny guys are there at WPI...

Ah, shit.

Just clicked "Don't Alert me when Lindswrigh is available".

Baby steps.

Well, I figured out why my alarm wasn't waking up. Apparently with my cat-like reflexes I'd smack the alarm off after it went off but before the CD began playing. Then, I would promptly go back to sleep and forget the whole thing. How did I solve this problem? I slept on the far side of the bed instead, next to the wall. So, yeah, now I can go to my first Linear Programming class since last week. Yay.

Went to the first crew team practice this afternoon. Since I'm new and I'm a coxswain, I did nothing. I rode around in a launch with the coach as he corrected the rowers. At the end of the two-hour-long practice, he finally says to me, "Your job as a coxswain is to keep the rowers in line. That shouldn't be too hard. You have to learn race strategy. And you have a little rudder to correct the boat." Okay, the quote isn't exact. So that was that. I still don't know how to swim, but one of the assistant coaches said she'd teach me and that I'd "be an Olympic swimmer" when she's done with me. I remain skeptical.

The other two coxswains for the boys' team are both girls. Both cute. Sigh. I didn't really talk to one of them all that much. The other's name is Dee. She too was in awe of my scrawniness. I didn't ask her weight, but she told me anyway. She weighs only a little more than me... So anyway, I don't think I'll be an effective coxswain. I anticipate a lot of zoning out.

The crew team seems fairly tight-knit. So I also anticipate that joining the crew team won't help me socially. Apparently there's a party tonight, that I heard from slight eavesdropping, but no one said anything to me directly. Yep...

At least I get a 1/12 of a credit.

Christ. Who the hell are you people? Some I can identify. Lacy, Liam, Jeff Bacon, an apartment on West Street, a few people from the Avalon forum. But where the hell did the rest of you come from?

Some of the addresses puzzling me:
      d35-ds6-mel.alphalink.com.au [202.161.101.99]
      dyn-lawres-213-234.dyn.columbia.edu [160.39.213.234]
      ppp-as43-30.nss.udel.edu [128.175.251.220]
      h24-80-4-23.vc.shawcable.net [24.80.4.23]
      h24-86-160-139.ed.shawcable.net [24.86.160.139]
      dsl092-079-233.bos1.dsl.speakeasy.net [66.92.79.233]
      adsl-64-169-154-48.dsl.chic01.pacbell.net [64.169.154.48]
      notregistered-129-2-218-30.student.umd.edu [129.2.218.30]
      ip-185-73.extranet.wpi.net [130.215.185.73]
      dsl092-066-115.bos1.dsl.speakeasy.net [66.92.66.115]
      pool-141-149-187-178.bos.east.verizon.net [141.149.187.178]
      pool-151-197-188-99.phil.east.verizon.net [151.197.188.99]

The ones in bold are the ones really bothering me. They could be in fuckin' Worcester. The WPI one, definitely. "dsl092-079-233.bos1.dsl.speakeasy.net" seems to like the site quite a bit. Eighteen hits in the past forty-eight hours. Crazy.

I know; if I had authentication, I'd know. But eh, we're operating on that honor thing here. Also, I've only had two people tell me I should put up my old entries. If you want to see them, you tell me. Otherwise, two people ain't enough.

Sigh. So no one's telling me who they are. For a while I contemplated having a username-type thing, requiring an email address to register. But then I realized I don't care who reads this. As long as you don't give me shit about it. Because no one's making you read this. So if you have a problem and you don't say anything, well, fuck you. I'll run it the way I want to. And in a while, when I've finished converting the old entries to the new template, I'll post them. I hate having to censor myself. For anyone.

And on an unrelated note, I will never eat lobster again. Tonight was the first and last time. Damned sea cockroaches. Delicacy, my ass. That shit was nauseating. Fuckin' cut my thumb on a shell, too.

I have to kill myself now. Ryan Sternberg has a fuckin' girlfriend. How can this have happened? Is the world so messed up?

Crew team practice today was... eye-opening. For one thing, I was told that I'll be taking a boat out tomorrow. Actually being the cox, I mean. The past two practices I've just observed with the coaches. But I still can't swim. So I'll be wearing a lifejacket. I'll be the only big orange retard out on the water. Fuckin' great. If I had any chance with any girl there, that ought to kill it.

And on the bus back, the two girl cox's and Vinnie [the guy who recruited me, former cox, now a rower] are sitting in the row in front of me. [I'm in the back of the bus with an empty seat across from me.] I'm trying to avoid eavesdropping on them talking. But then I hear Vinnie through my self-induced haze. "This year's going to be great. The three cox's." I sense that he might be talking to me, so I look over. But apparently he isn't. He has an arm around the each girl and isn't in any way including me. Luckily we were right near campus, so I didn't have to feel awkward too long. I blew out of there as fast as I could.

Crew practice didn't go so bad. I didn't get a life jacket. But it seems the shells rarely, if ever, tip. I didn't damage the boat, or so I think. But I did almost collide with one of the girls' team's shells out on the water. [Which meant the boys' assistant coach got yelled at by the girls' coach. I felt bad for her. "Her" being Lynn, the assistant boys' coach.] And without the mini-amplifier, no one can hear me. Lynn says it'll get better with time. I kept oversteering, zig-zagging across the lake.

The boys' team got another coxswain. Another girl. She's cute, too. Sigh. But so far, the pseudo-award for most cute is a tie between Deanna [Dee] and one of the girls' team's coxswains. Again, sigh.

Granted, it's already an anniversary. But I'm thinking more, when there's nothing just post-apocalyptic wasteland... one of those anniversaries universally forgotten.


Meh. I still ain't going to any fuckin' memorial service.

Had my first lesson on swimming tonight. Well, not my first ever. First in the series with Lynn. Have another scheduled for tomorrow night at eight.


Well, I am like, "Yay, I get to spend more time with Lynn". 'Cause she's cool. Of course, I'm not going to say this out loud. I don't think she goes for younger guys who act really stupid around water.

I'm sick of the sight of the site. Heh. This happens every time. I'm a fickle motherfucker. I need to use PHP to swap in some randomness or something, keep it kind of fresh each time you reload. I find myself sketching out more designs. A lot of them involve using stock photos that I just don't have. And what I want I can't find on istockphoto.com. I should go out and take the shots myself, but I don't have a camera. And I don't have access to a camera capable of really high-quality images.

Things I'm thinking about are a parking lot for something like an "urban desert". Say, shopping carts for tumbleweeds. Yeah, a little pretentious. And then I was thinking of something with power lines stretching off into the distance. Kind of like the cover to Counting Crows' Across A Wire.

I might end up picking something at random from istockphoto, or something I randomly find while cruisin' online. Meh. We'll see. This look is not long for this world.

And shit. Slackerati hasn't even gone beyond sketch phase. I should get on that...

Whoa. I'm sitting here, writing my paper for German that's due this afternoon. I lean on my desk and begin daydreaming of one of the freshmen from LnL. The roommate of the girl who's a math major from New Jersey. I can't even remember her name. And I just lost half an hour.

I'm going to go eat something.

So Lynn's 22. Eh. I'd say she was out of my league. But many girls are out of my league. Still nice and cute, though.

I think I'll talk to Katrina. She's the roommate of the other New Jerseyan math major in LnL. She's the one I was daydreaming about yesterday. I think I'll talk to her on Sunday at the movie. I need to think of something to say, though... I'm trying.

Goldfinger tonight! Skatefest tomorrow! Rock.

Lately I've been feeling pretty good. Classes are going alright. And I realize that I didn't burn out as much as I thought. I got into fucking Cooper Union, for fuck's sake. Should've gone there. Too late to change that, though. I'm still capable. I just don't know what the fuck I want to do.

Life is rich. Life is full. I'm happy. I'm passing all my classes. [Knock on wood.] Or so that's the impression that I get. Oh, the bad joke. Heh. I'm getting to know the crew team. Granted, I can't keep track of all the rowers, but I know the other coxswains' names at least. I can cox the boat relatively well, too. And I'm learning to swim.

And this weekend will be full of activity. Skatefest tomorrow, after crew practice.

Went to Providence with Jon tonight. Goldfinger with Allister and Big Blue Monkey at Lupo's. It was good. Only minor complaints. It started late [though I suspect we just had the wrong start time to begin with]. The lights dimmed long before Goldfinger came out, so there was a long period of anticipation and disappointment. And it wasn't very long. But that last one could just be because it was good and I didn't want it to end.

Big Blue Monkey was good. Got me nodding and rockin' back and forth. Allister was great. Floored me. Literally, in fact. Being on the floor of the pit is like freefalling. You feel like you're going to die any second. But tonight, this girl swooped in out of nowhere, grabbed my arm and pulled me up. I was smitten, smitten so bad. Blue tank top, looked like she was still in high school. Incredibly cute. My guardian angel. Well, my second one, after Jon. I tried to keep track of her, but well, it's difficult in the pit.

Goldfinger was fuckin' incredible. Though, they didn't play the one song off their new CD that I wanted to hear, "January". But they played their classics, got the crowd going. I had to step out for a bit, worried about Jon. He recovered and jumped back in. After a smoke, I followed. Back into the pit for "Mable", "Superman", "Miles Away", "FTN" [which I sang along to even though I don't particularly care for animals], a song I couldn't recognize [probably off of their first album], and of course, "99 Red Balloons". I can't remember, that probably wasn't all of the songs they played after I came back into the pit. I actually lost my breath in the middle of "99 Red Balloons", had to stop shouting for a couple of verses so I could come back for the verse in German.

The weirdest thing happened. During a lull between songs, I'm standing there with my hand against the back of the girl in front of me. It's bent slightly... I can't really describe it. Anyway, I'm standing there, and I feel something hit my hand. I figure it's just water, spraying from somewhere. I look at my hand and there's a shiny pick resting on my first three fingers, across the parts next to the knuckles. So I pocket it before it gets swiped. I didn't even see any of guitarists flick his hand. Heh. Tried and failed to catch some drumsticks after the set.

Hearing's not fully back yet. But it's mostly there. And my voice is shot. Or it was. I think I'm fine now. Hehe... though I think I'll pretend it still hurts tomorrow. Maybe I won't have to take a shell out. Mm.

But now to sleep. Have to be up at six-thirty. Life's good.

For the moment.

The bridge of my nose is still sore. I caught a guy's skull in the face last night. Heh. Can't wear my glasses comfortably. No visible bruises, though. Too bad.

Talked to a cute girl in the pit at Skatefest's main stage during Brand New's set. But then I couldn't take the pit anymore. I'm a wuss, whatever. Plus, Fairweather was coming up, and I wasn't going to stay for some band I'd never heard of. So I left. I'll probably never see her again.

Skatefest, side stage. Just before Catch 22. Approximately an hour ago. Guess who I ran into. My guardian angel from last night. And she remembered me! She remembered me! She remembered me! Heh. I asked her, "You're the girl who pulled me up off the floor, right?" She said, "Yeah, that was me." Jon and Krystal tell me to go for her. But then some guy barges between us. I spent the entire Catch 22 set chasing her and her friend. Actually, I caught up to them pretty quickly. Spent most of the set making sure I didn't lose them.

Couldn't talk to her while the band was playing five feet away from us [there was no barrier holding the crowd off the stage], so instead I perfected what I was going to say. I decided on, "This is going to sound so wrong, but... thanks for last night. If you ever need a rescue, call me." Then, hopefully, she'd ask for my number. But she and her friend left the pit during the closer. I followed. This might have been a bit creepy. I tried tapping g.a. on the shoulder, but she didn't turn around. Then they left Skatefest entirely. There was no re-entry after seven, and it was seven-fifteen. I made a calculation, worked out the odds, made a solid each-way bet and went... back into the show.

Good luck, goodbye...

Forgot to mention this before. Went to Bickford's with Jon and Krystal this afternoon before Skatefest. Guess who was working today. Amber. Of course. Again, she wasn't our waitress. She stuck to another section, mostly refilling salt and pepper shakers. At one point, she sat down right across from me. The only thing between us was a clear plexiglass divider. But she didn't talk to or approach me. Guess she just didn't recognize me. Sigh.

So, what did I do? That's right, folks. I wrote her another note. This one went kind of like this: "So I guess you never thought of a good icebreaker. Oh, well. Or maybe you couldn't read my email address or number because the barcode was in the way. Or maybe you lost the note. So I'll leave another. But repeated notes would be creepy. And I definitely don't want to be creepy." This time, I didn't just leave my email address and cell phone number. I also left the phone number to the apartment.

I didn't check the answering machine when I stopped there after Skatefest, before leaving for Kingston. I should when I get back in the morning. Sigh. She's so cute. Kind of looks like Claire Forlani at the beginning of Mallrats, now that I think of it. Just with her hair up. Yeah, that's what I'm watching with Jon and Krystal now, 'cause Krystal's never seen it.

Heh. We just reached the part where Miss Ivannah says, "Understanding is reached only after confrontation." Well. I suppose I'll never understand, then.

Went to Subway this afternoon to get some dinner. Cashier girl thought I was a girl. I just stood still for a moment. Another guy working the counter kind of nudged her and corrected her gender-specific word. I think she said "... her change," and he said, "His change." You know what I mean.

I thought I'd grown out of that phase where people thought I was a girl. The voice was the killer back in the day. Telemarketers would call me "Miss". The long hair could be confusing, but I thought I'd smoked long enough to get some nice throaty quality to my voice. Damn. Plus there's the lack of breasts. Flat as a fuckin' board. That ain't common. Only my sister's that flat. And there's the cheekbone structure. Sigh.

I think I made her feel bad. I wasn't trying to. I just said, "Ow. The pain." In a deadpan voice. But she just kind of disappeared and left shortly afterwards. Hm.

Just had a great little conversation with a girl on AIM. Her name's Nicole; I found her through Liam's FTJ perusal. She's cool. She likes good music. And scrawny guys. She's sarcastic. And she's incredibly cute.

We didn't talk about much. Just things like how neither of us are really into tacky gold jewelry, or people who use "r", "u", and "4" in place of their phonetic equivalents. But it was good chattin'. Very good.

Chapter One: gamemasters


Chapter Two: the heartland of new jersey


Chapter Three: could you get me a sandwich?


The first dream left me shaking. The second left me confused. And the third... enraged and dazed.

Last night was the first time in a while I'd actually gotten drunk. Three or four shots of Southern Comfort and two and a half cans of Coors Light. Yeah, beer's nasty, but it was all that was there. Drank with some guys from LnL. Listened to some anecdotes. Swapped concert stories with some frosh whose name I don't think I ever learned. Much fun.

Walking home was interesting. Terrifying. But fun. Stopped in at Subway. Could barely concentrate enough to order. The gender-correcting guy was there. Learned that the girl who thought I was female is named Christine. Wonder if the Subway guys noticed I was completely drunk. Eh. I got correct change.

My throat's still sore. Initially became sore over the weekend, but it got much worse after crew practice on Monday. Two hours in the rain. I'm downing Chloraseptic like candy. And the bridge of my nose still hurts. Sigh.

But I'm not hungover. Rock. Though, I've only ever been hungover once. And that was after the New Years' Party this year. But that was because I started drinking long before the party began. And Heather, my "straight-edge" ex, was at the party. I theorize that's why I drank like mad upon arrival. [Shrug.]

Christ, this girl pisses me off. Most recently, here. Definitely reminds me of Kate. Arrogant and belligerent. Can't deal with anyone disagreeing with her. Feels the need to impart advice to everyone.

I wonder what would happen if the two of them were locked in a room. Their views aren't identical, just their attitudes; who would convert whom? Would either survive?

Last night was interesting. After crew practice Deanna asked me if I wanted to go see some date rape prevention speaker talk. I wanted to ask her if she thought I was a candidate for date rape, on either side. But I thought better of that. In retrospect, I should've gone. But I thought I had swimming with Lynn, so I declined.

Waited at the pool for about fifteen minutes. No Lynn. So I left. Yep, should've gone with Dee.

Went to the campus center to check my mail. Apparently there was some pool expert doing a demonstration. He didn't seem all that great. He kept failing to make the trick shots he attempted. And he was pretty sexist. Noticeable when he played against this girl named Devan Walker. Then he played against an Indian girl; during that game, he branched out into racism. Fantastic. I can't believe the school paid to have this guy come here.

After he finished up, I talked to Devan, who was there with John Brewer. [Pool expert had asked Devan about her relationship with John, like whether the two were married or dating. Devan kept laughing and insisting they were just friends.] I wonder how John ends up knowing all the girls. He's friends with Andrea, too; he was the one who dragged her to the LAN party. So I ended up playing pool with the two of them. Devan's apparently a freshman at Worcester State, majoring in biology. She went to the same high school as John, just a few grades below him. They're both from Boston. She was cute, of course.

Then Andrea stopped by, and Devan was surprised I knew her. Devan and Andrea became a team. We played for a while. Idle talk. Eventually they had to go or something.

During the pool demonstration, I'd run into Georgios Dalakouras, my Linear Programming teacher. We talked of pool. And how we both suck at it. Then he asked where my group's project was. I thought either Wayne or Rachael was handling it. He says he wants it tomorrow morning. I later run into Rachael, who tells me that Wayne's being an ass and isn't responding to any sort of attempt at communication. I tell her I'll send her a copy of the project when I get home.

Ran into Frank, talked a while. Ran into Liam, hung out with him and Oleg. Many bad jokes were told, most of them translated from Russian. Then I came back home, sent Rachael the project, and talked to Wayne. Apparently he found no errors with the program. So we just decided to tell Dalakouras that we re-ran the program and found nothing wrong with it. And that was that.

Right, so I don't have a point. Just letting you know what I did last night.

Around one, I became thirsty. The fridge had no liquid refreshment to offer, so I decided to walk down to Honey Farms. Walking down my street [Goulding], I pass some empty police cars. Huh. I walk around them, wonder what's going on. Keep on going. At the corner of Goulding and Highland, there's a huge gathering of people. I know some. Frank, Ben, Tony, Wayne. And Deanna's there, with a rower from the team, not sure what his name is.

Apparently a party [right across the fucking street from me] got broken up by the cops. Deanna went back to her room or something. I hung around with the others in hopes that it might lead to another party or something. It didn't. And hanging out with drunk people is just no fun if you're not. Although Wayne seems to like it.

So I was getting pissed off, because these people were annoying, and no booze was on the horizon. Then Wayne makes some snide comment about me not passing German. So I begin to throttle him. The drunk people come to his aid. This just makes me angrier. One of the drunk guys tells me to go home. Of course, since he says that, now I can't. So I sit there for a while more, seething. Eventually dispersal happens. So I walk off.

Christ. I'm so fucking pissed off.

Weekends suck. So do weekdays. Sigh.

I'm yelling along to Madonna's Immaculate Collection in my room right now. Yes. I'm a little loaded.

Woke up this morning around eight for some crew thing. It's Homecoming weekend, so we had to put on a demonstration for the alumni. The varsity teams had a race with some of the alums, which they [one of the varsity boys' team, specifically] won. The novice boys' team just did some circuits of the lake with one shell. I mostly hung out with Dee. She's cool. But I can't fall for her; she's engaged. I can not get over a college freshman being engaged. Eighteen just seems too young to be that committed.

After that I went to the movie at Perreault. We brought back Monsters Inc. for the alums and families. It's a cute movie. And Jennifer Tilly provides a great voice for Mike's [Billy Crystal's character's] girlfriend. When I drooled over Jennifer Tilly's character in the booth, Lindsay said I was just a horny boy. Which I am. Sigh.

After that, I prowled the quad. Since it's Homecoming, some frats are having barbecues out on the quad. With booze. So I had some late lunch/early dinner [mostly liquid] at Zeta Psi's area. And that's why I'm tipsy at the moment. Got to be back in Perreault at 1930 for the second showing of Monsters Inc.. Let's see if I can get some more free drinking in.

Yeah, no more free drinking that afternoon. Though, I did talk to a girl I hadn't talked to in a long time on AIM.

Went to the second movie. Zac was there. Not really a surprise, since Lindsay had said at the LnL meeting that a "special guest" would be visiting. Not too many guesses needed. But he's a cool guy, and it was good to see him again. We had a smoke outside and talked for a bit.  [Last year we were the only two people in LnL who smoked. Hey... Damn. That means I'm the only smoker in LnL now, probably.] Things aren't bad like before in the booth. It's helped by other people being there. I don't really feel weird around Lindsay anymore, either. Perhaps I've matured. Though I doubt it.

So after the movie, I came back home. I passed many frat houses and many parties... but you can't just walk in. Or at least, if you're male and not a frat member, you can't just walk in. Or if you're me, you can't just walk in. So I went home and sat in my room for a while. Asked Vinnie online if he knew any place where I could go drink. He wasn't any help. So I decided to just go walking around campus. I was hoping someone nice, preferably female, would take me in and offer me booze.

An hour and a few circuits of campus later, nothing. And I'd smoked about five cigarettes just to keep my hands occupied. So I walked down Highland toward home. Stopped at Ho Farms, got a drink 'cause I felt so dessicated. Decided I might as well get something to eat. Walked back down Highland to Subway, then back home. I passed the people in the bars and pizza joints three times. They must have thought I was lost.

Nah. They probably [correctly] concluded I was a loser with nothing to do on Saturday night. Sigh.

The movie tonight was The Salton Sea. It was interesting. Initially it kind of reminded me of Trainspotting, except with meth instead of heroin. The main story reminded me of Memento; Val Kilmer's out for vengeance for his wife's murder. It's pretty good; I'd recommend it if you're bored and want to see something new.

My favorite part is the history of meth at the beginning of the movie. Hilarious. It's got a couple cute girls in it, including Deborah Unger [Mel Gibson's character's wife from Payback].

It's also got Vincent D'Onofrio and Adam Goldberg in it, and they're usually entertaining. Though D'Onofrio plays the fattest heroin addict I've ever seen. Meat Loaf's in it too, though he has but a minor role.

However, it also has an Asian character with a Southern accent. This bothers me. I like Southern accents on girls; that's attractive, in fact. But on Asian people... There's just something so wrong about it. I'm reminded of Babu. He was this Indian contestant on Jeopardy. And I expected him to have an accent, just not a Texan accent. God damn, that was annoying. Of course, that man'd be annoying even without an accent.

Anyway. Salton Sea. Okay movie. Worth seeing a couple times.

Well, I passed the swim test for crew. One lap in the pool with a long-sleeved shirt on, four without. Five minutes treading water.

This means I never have to swim again. Unless, by some freak occurence, my shell wins a race. Then the rowers will throw me into the water, in accordance with tradition.

But passing the test means no more swimming lessons with Lynn. [frown] Oh well. I'll still see her nigh daily at practice. That'll have to do.

Tuesday nights are Coffeehouses at WPI. And after the Coffeehouse, there's usually a small LnL party. The past couple of weeks, I've been going for the drinking. And tonight was good. I'm tipsy; I'm happy.

But tonight, Lindsay was there. Yeah, you're all like, "What happened?" Nothing happened. But I guess I'm not as over her as I thought. She sat there, sober, as everyone else got drunk. That sort of conviction... real turn-on. And... well... she was just cute. I can't explain it. I couldn't even if I was sober.

I'm so tired. If I remember anything... I'll write about it in the morning. I just need to pass out now.

When I'm feeling masochistic, I go through my records. This includes my old journals, logs, and conversations. Tonight, I did conversations. Specifically, the area around November and December 1999. That's really when I started to save every AIM conversation.

There's the infamous Halloween and its aftermath. My first suspension at school. The feeling of spiraling downwards. Antidepressants that didn't work. Talking to Sarah/Diz, which did help. Jon and his problems with Whitney.

Yeah, that winter senior year definitely shaped us.

It's weird, going back over your life like that. I remember sitting in my room back home, having these conversations. Hunched over the desk, crying on the keyboard. Constantly wanting to just leave home and never return. Not sleeping all night and just sitting in my room in the dark. Pathetic, I know.

It's just like re-living it. I need to go lie down. But I posted. Happy?

So apparently the crew team leaves for the lake at seven on weekends. Huh. I could've sworn it was at eight last week. In fact... it was at eight. Since the Bean Counter opens at seven, and I stopped there and got coffee before going to the bus. But this morning, I get to the gym at seven forty-five. And there's no crew people there. Nor is there a bus. So I waited until eight, then left. What the fuck?

On an unrelated note... one of my flatmates had loud sex last night. Quite disturbing.

Heh. He just walked out of his room. And said to me, "I'm sorry. A lot." I suggested using a pillow as a muffling device. But hey, good for him. And if Paul's seeing someone, then maybe I have hope.

Chillin' with Lindsay isn't awkward at all. It's great. This afternoon I benched [essentially, compiled] the movie for tomorrow night. We remain not friends, but at least I can be around her and talk to her without freaking out. Rock.

On the way back home from the booth, I saw the saddest sight. I live on Goulding St., not exactly the nicest neighborhood. Grungy. So I'm walking down my street towards my place. Glancing idly at the other houses. In one window, there's a middle-aged Asian woman, just sitting there staring out at the street. She's staring at nothing. Absolutely nothing. That shook me. Man, must that life suck. If I ever get that bad, shoot me. Although, I just realized that she could have been high or something. That wouldn't be so bad, then. Wish I was high right now.


That song came up on shuffle a while ago. It reminded me of Skatefest and the girl with the orange shirt and the glasses. Makes me wonder if I'll ever see her again. Fuck, I mean, I never thought I'd run into guardian angel girl after the Goldfinger concert. Then our paths crossed again. Of course, I fucked that up big time. Sigh.

Oh, the pain. And no, I'm not this "Sycho" guy. I can spell.


Aww. I lose.

I haven't been to a class that wasn't German since last Tuesday. Today, I didn't even go to German. I haven't handed in any work since Monday. And I still haven't handed in [or written] the last German essay assigned. I think another one was due today. Who knows how many assignments I've missed in Linear Programming and Probability.

The only thing I did today was crew practice. And all everyone talked about was their weekend. Apparently I missed some sort of large gathering. Of course, I wasn't invited, so it's not really that I "missed" it... This is what I hate most about Mondays. Hearing about the fun things people did over the weekend while I sat at home.

I don't know what it is about fall, but it just brings me down. Like last fall, when I passed two classes. Out of six.

Instead of doing any work tonight [not that I even know what the assignments are nowadays], I watched Magnolia. And I don't really get the point of it, if there was one. But the story with Claudia was just... great. Falling for fictional characters sucks. At least with real girls I might have some infinitesimal chance. Or I can imagine I do, anyway.

Her character's just so tragic and insecure. And cute. ... I've really got to curb these knight-in-shining-armor fantasies. I'm never going to be any girl's hero.

So I went to Linear Programming this morning. Found out there was a group project due today. And I had neither a copy of the project guidelines, nor a group. I've got one of the two now. I'll do it alone. Probably'll work out better that way.

My NSA application is due in two weeks. And I still don't have either of the two recommendations I need. 'Cause I don't know or like any professors enough to ask them for one. Plus, my transcript won't be all that glowing. Meh. I could always go back to Willowbridge. It was just so mind-numbingly boring there. I spent most of the day staring blankly into space.

I was just looking into internships in New Jersey. There are a lot for Hoffmann-LaRoche. That's where my mother works [and where my father used to work]. That company pisses me off. I know they just laid off a whole bunch of people this summer. And they're hiring an assload of interns. While this is, in theory, good business practice... Well, yeah. It just pisses me off. ... I might apply.

Contrary to popular belief, there are things in this world that make me happy. Like green olives stuffed with garlic. And jalapeños.

Sour apple schnapps. Amaretto. Ice cold vodka. Malibu in Pepsi.

Songs that make you cry. Songs that make you thrash.

Girls. Cute girls. Tragic girls. [Girls who climb on rocks. Tough girls. Sissy girls. Even girls with chicken pox.] Cryptic girls. Girls with strong convictions. Girls who don't try to change you. Girls who change you without trying.

Feeling someone cuddle closer while you're both half-asleep. Protecting someone. Catching someone looking at you. Comfortable silences.

Yeah, there are plenty of things from which I derive pleasure. Most of them don't happen often...

Some news, and then some excitement. Well, not excitement for you; excitement for me. Anyway... where I've been the past few days. I'll start at Thursday afternoon. Went to German a little early, so I could study at the last minute for the vocabulary quiz. Then Lauren drilled the vocab into my skull. She rocks. So I think I passed. I then skipped crew for an LnL gathering. Sound was provided by a Kirby-chiefed crew. Talked to Kirby quite a bit. Remember Novemberfest girl? Finally learned her name from Kirby; it's Susan. He apparently liked her, too. The LnL gathering was alright. Free food is always fine by me.

Friday. [Now I'm reminded of those screen cards from The Shining.] Woke up late, around ten-thirty or so, so I skipped LinProg. Went to Probability, handed in some late homework. Went home, since German was canceled. Twiddled my thumbs for around three hours. Went to set-up for some SocComm Pub show. Basically hung around, since no one gave me anything to do. I half-assedly did some last-minute cramming for my LinProg test that was at four.

Left Riley Commons for Stratton at four. Got there around five after four. I'm walking up the stairs, when Dalakouras [my LinProg professor] comes down the stairs. This is confusing. He says "Hi," and keeps walking. I hoped I didn't miss the final. Kept going upstairs. Went to our classroom. No one there. Went to the room where we had the last test. No one there. Panic. Head to the top floor. Look in both rooms, see no one at first glance. I go into one of them, and there are some people sitting there, doing nothing. No one I really recognize. [I don't even know who's in my class; I skip it that often.] But every other room's empty, so I sit down. And wait.

Around four-thirty Dalakouras comes in. Hands out tests. Begin. I take a look at the first problem and shit myself with fear. I have no idea how to use the simplex method to show the solution is unbounded. I make the initial tableau. Then to complete it, I flip to the back for scrap paper. I glance at the last problem. It's a dual simplex problem. One you can solve graphically, at that. Easy! So I flip to the second-to last. Also dual, also easy. [Dalakouras' LinProg tests are like this: He gives you seven problems. You pick four and do them.] So I flip through. The second problem gives two tableaus with blanks to fill in. Easy. The fourth was hard to pick. I couldn't find another really easy one, so I'm not sure on my answer. But fuck. I think I passed that one. Maybe aced. I may yet pass LinProg.

After the test I went back to Riley Commons. Helped Kirby out with sound setup. Stayed for the concert. I get a couple of WPI Pub Security shirts out of Ben Privett [Pub chair]. Sweet. On the back of these shirts, it says: "WPI and the WPI Social Committee do not condone or encourage the practices of slam dancing and body surfing. Patrons who choose to participate in these activities do so at their own risk. In the interest of safety, stage diving will not be tolerated. Violators will be subject to prosecution and expulsion." Makes me laugh every time I see it. I just want to wear it to a show. And I might. [Though, none of the ones I'm going to in the next few weeks will be that jumpin'. Alright, Brand New's will be. I'll wear it then.]

So back to the Pub show. It starts late. It sucks ass. Five punk bands. Local, I think. The first two bands decide to bring "the rock" more to the crowd and place their drum kits on the front of the stage and have their guitarists and singers play on the floor. They then complain about feedback and lighting. [Well, maybe if you stopped walking in front of the speakers... And stayed on the fucking stage, beyond the speakers, where the lights are all aimed, it'd be better. Idiots.] The second band stomps on our cords and busts a mic by pushing his bass drum onto, then over it. The last band approached decent, but didn't quite make it. And their fans... sigh. They "danced" in two ways. They either ran around in circles [not mosh-style, just running, not contacting other runners or doing anything besides running]... Or they would go to one side of the room, gear up, and run headlong into the opposite wall, stop, turn around and repeat. Idiots.

Odd occurence: Just outside the door, Pub security found a plastic bag full of wallets and purses. These were assumed stolen and handed over to campus police. As I heard the next night, MWRep [repertory group who was doing a show in a neighboring building] reported wallets and purses missing. Heh.

So strike happens at eleven, a half-hour later than originally planned due to the delay in starting. I find my watch went dead around ten-fifteen. Well, shit. I have no idea how to crack the back of it open to change it. Although, I now realize why the show seemed to really drag the last hour. I thought it was just the bands sucking. So strike takes an hour or so. Then the crew all sit and talk in the LnL office in the Campus Center and hang out until it closes [one a.m.].

After the disbanding, I walk almost all the way to home, decide I'm hungry. So I walk all the way back to Subway, get something and come back. It's now around two. So I sit at home, eating and reading. Around four, I remember that I have crew in the morning. Shit. So I get into bed at four-thirty, not knowing whether I can actually wake up at six-thirty to catch the bus at seven.

I make it. I wake up, feeling like shit with the urge to vomit. It's dark out. And cold. But I make it to practice. It starts to rain lightly and the wind's blowing hard, so the rowers have [contagious] hope that practice will be indoors and not on the lake. Which would be great for me, since I'd do nothing. So we get to the lake. The coach dashes all hope. And just before I take my crew and shell out to the lake, he says to me, "Oh, and Manny, you'll be racing a shell next weekend." Fuckin' A. I can't even drive the boat straight. And I'm taking one out in the race? Shit. Practice goes alright. The rain stops, the sun shines. The wind remains, fucking my already-poor steering up even more.

I get home around ten. I find I have no clean clothes. Well, actually, this had been true for a while. So I dump it all into one of my huge black trunks. There's so much that it can't close. I shove my detergent and dryer sheets into my bag and borrow Jack's copy of Neverwhere. It's a short walk to the laundromat, just a ways around the corner. But it takes forever with two hands on the trunk, watching for falling clothes and balancing the bag on my back. Laundry takes a few hours. It's one when I leave. All nicely folded, the clothes do more than fill the trunk. I stuff the rest into a bag and walk back. The walk back goes smoother.

Some band called Favorite Atomic Hero was booked by the IFC [Interfraternity Council's what that stands for, I think] to play that night. I'm shit tired. But I can't go to sleep in the middle of the day. So I go to setup around three. I think I'm actually learning how to set up sound. Hm. Got to know another guy from LnL, Mike Veilleux. The concert itself was sub-optimal. Only a few people showed up; I'd estimate turnout around thirty at most, probably closer to twenty. My favorite part is their cover of "Rebel Yell". I tell them this after the show. The lead singer goes, "Hell yeah. Billy Idol rocks." Heh.

Strike takes an hour or so. Followed up by sitting around in the LnL office until closing again. Disband. I went home. Finally watched The Boondock Saints. It's as great as everyone told me it'd be. Really made me want to go out and be a vigilante. I'd become more Catholic, just to be more badass when I spout religious incantations in Latin. Before popping caps. Heh. I put on Rushmore, which never looked like that good a movie. And the main character just grates on me. So I put it in and fall asleep.

Woke up today [Sunday... yesterday, I suppose] around four in the afternoon. Get dressed and go to the movie. Scooby Doo. I have low expectations. Zac's crew chiefing the first movie. We smoke and talk for a bit outside. The movie fails to meet my low expectations. It is supremely awful. Scrappy Doo's in it. And so is Rowan Atkinson. I hate that guy. For the same reason I hate Tom Green. Idiots. [I seem to be channeling Lewis Black lately. But they're still idiots.] Not to mention I don't like the cartoon in the first place. It's just stupid. Okay. I do like one aspect of it. That aspect being that all the supermatural shit is always just some pissed-off guy trying to freak people out. Debunking the supernatural is good. But other than that, the whole thing was crap. And other than the movie, things went alright. Jordan says I should rush Crow [Alpha Chi Rho]. I said I'd rush any frat with good parties. He said he'd put me on the list for Sex On The Beach [some big Crow party C-term]. That'd be cool. Though, I don't really see myself actually joining any frat. Parties are good.

And so that brings us to the present time, pretty much. Now for what I'm excited about. Or what I was excited about at the beginning of this entry, anyway. I've calmed down a bit over the last hour or so. And this object of excitement is... Shows! Fuck yeah. This Tuesday, Counting Crows at Hammerstein in New York City. Saturday, Dashboard Confessional at Worcester's Palladium. Next Wednesday, Our Lady Peace, also at the Palladium [which Lacy will be attending, for extra rockin']. And next Saturday, Brand New and the Movielife at the Met Cafe in Providence. So yeah. Fun times definitely ahead.

And I was wondering about one thing. Have been since I was at the second showing of the movie. Does anyone get the references I put into the entry titles? All of them? If you do, kudos. This entry's an easy one. "Easy" meaning you could probably plug it into Google and get the answer. Really easy ones are those I pull from the song I'm listening to.

If you don't get them all, well... try harder, damn it. I want you to get as much out of these entries as I put in.

Technically, I started writing this entry hours ago. So it's weird, timing-wise. Anyway... The Counting Crows concert kicked ass. A great quantity of ass. The opener was some artist/band called Graham Colton. And they were alright as openers go, but I didn't pay them much attention. My sister and I spent their set getting drinks and checking out the merch stand. Heh. My sister got this awful drink involving some energy drink they were promoting [called Liquid Bang], melon liquer and white tequila. It was vile; we agreed. I drank about a third of it. Didn't want to get fucked up and not remember Counting Crows.

So here's how their set went. [I wrote this down while standing near the stage. Not a jumpin' crowd, but I didn't really expect one. First real concert I've been to that's been like that. R.E.M. back in ninety-four was probably like that, but I was ten.] They kicked off with "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby". An odd choice, in my opinion; it's not really a kicker. They went on to "Hard Candy". I kept from [full-out] crying, amazingly. I did tear slightly. Then "Mr. Jones". Then to one of my sister's favorites [and one of mine, though I love most of their songs], "Goodnight Elisabeth". They blended that one into "Chelsea" and back again. That was nice. Then "American Girls". The guitarists did the backup vocals, but they're just not as hot as Sheryl Crow. Then another of my favorites, "St. Robinson In His Cadillac Dream". That song was on my Rio this summer, and I used to listen to it on the train daily. A couple of my entries in August relate to it, one about a dream I had and one about Torie [the girl in the red backpack]. Then a song that I never really got into, "If I Could Give All My Love To You (Richard Manuel Is Dead)". I shouted along to it anyway.

Then Adam Duritz sat down at the piano and said he'd play a composition. After a thirty-second-or-so long riff, he launched into "A Long December". I cheered. I had been telling my sister how I wanted Duritz to do that song with just him and the piano. Ah, but then the band joined. It still rocked. And it was still very moving. Teared, but didn't cry. Then they covered "Big Yellow Taxi". Some kids near us went wild, shouting along and punching the air. I wonder if they knew it was a cover. Does me liking the original make me an elitist bastard? [Well, I know I'm already a bastard; so the question is really whether it makes me elitist.] And if that doesn't, how about looking down on them for their musical ignorance? [shrug] Then they did "Catapult", which would have been great as an opener. It was still good in the middle. They then took it down a notch, with "Black And Blue". Great song. Definitely dig the chorus.


Then a recorded drum beat started. Took way too long for me to recognize "Miami" [but I did, still before the band kicked in]. Shouted along to the whole song, but I tried to throw more into the second verse, which ends in "Well, maybe I don't need no angel at all". [But they didn't include castanets. Rats. Those're my favorite musical element of that song.] Then "Have You Seen Me Lately?", which I enjoy in both its released fast-tempo glory and its slow, melodic plaintiveness. Recovering The Satellites is my favorite studio album of theirs, so I was glad they played songs from it, but my sister's favorite is August And Everything After. She was getting antsy for something really old. They closed with "A Murder Of One", which she liked. I liked it, too, especially the part at the end when they do it live: "I have been to Paris, and I have been to Rome. And I have gone to London, and I am all alone. I've been to New York City, and I am home." They change the last city to the appropriate crowd-pleaser, of course. But I like the Paris/Rome/London part. Duritz usually repeats it a couple of times. This time, after the local city insertion, he began saying, "And I am not alone" over and over, then at some point switched to "And we are not alone" and repeated that a bit. That was a good way to close.

Heh. But the encores! After a minute, the band comes out again and takes up their instruments and they go into... "Round Here". Hell fuckin' yeah. They use excerpts from Ryan Adams' "Come Pick Me Up" ["Come fuck me up/ Steal all my records/ Screw all my friends behind my back/ With a smile on your face/ Then you do it again..."]. Made me re-evaluate Ryan Adams. The song Duritz and he co-wrote ["Butterfly In Reverse"] is just awful, in my opinion. But the lyrics Duritz sampled, they're gold. And after the "girl on the car in the parking lot" verse, he went into...


After that, he took up the song starting at the beginning of the "girl on the car in the parking lot" verse, only faster. He ended it with more sampling of "Come Pick Me Up". A couple of guys behind us had kept yelling the opening to "Hanginaround" in between songs. They finally got their wish. Near the end he blended into the chorus from "Speedway", one of my favorites. It worked well, in terms of lyrical flow. They left the stage once more, but I kept hope alive.

And they delivered. Encore squared. Just Adam and a guitarist came out. Duritz said something like, "Sometimes I can't remember the words to this next one. Sometimes, I can. We'll just see." And then they started playing something I later found out was a cover of "The Blues Run The Game", by Jackson C. Frank. It's a nice song, lyrically. "When I'm not drinking, baby, you're on my mind. When I'm not sleeping, honey, well, you know you'll find me crying." After that, the rest of the band came back and played "Rain King". Much slower than on August And Everything After, to my sister's chagrin. Near the end, he threw in...


And he finished the song with "So why don't you come in out of the rain?" Then Adam did a run-through of the band members, which I didn't pay attention to. I have to admit ignorance as to who is who, other than Duritz. [shrug] He's the man with the plan, anyway.

No more encores. Ah, well.

Miscellany. I loved the background lights, especially during "Goodnight Elisabeth", "Miami", and "Catapult". For "Goodnight Elisabeth", they projected an image of flowers onto the back curtain. You could see the stem, but not the flower so much, except for the white veins of the flower. So it made it look kind of ethereal. For "Miami", they projected an image of condos or hotels in a nice orange-yellow tint. And for "Catapult", they put three images of the sun in a blue tint [in a horizontal row on the curtain]. When the chorus kicked in ["I want to be the light/ That burns out your eyes"], the suns went orange and expanded. It was a nice effect.

Duritz kept jumping onto the monitors, which was nice because it made him easier to see over people in front of me. One time while jumping, he tripped over what I assume was a mic cord and fell straight onto the monitor. Ouch. I clapped. And Duritz sweated a lot. Well, combination of the lights and the excitement, it's understandable. Over the course of the pre-encores set, he soaked his entire shirt, pretty much. This seemed to gross out my sister. Heh.

And speaking of things that grossed out my sister, there was a couple making out in front of us during the entire show. This pissed her off more than grossed her out, I suppose. They were actually one of three couples that were with each other and in front of us. All three couples were making out the entire show. I can understand what bothered my sister so much. Why get tickets if you're just going to make out? And if that's all you're going to do, fuckin' go hang out in the balcony and don't fuckin' stand in my way on the floor when I came to see the fuckin' band. Idiots.

After the show, I got a few flyers from people handing them out on the street. And what did I see? October ninth, Gin Blossoms at the B.B. King Bar And Grill. I shat myself with excitement. So this was my dilemma. The Gin Blossoms broke up years back and just got back together this year. I've never seen them live. This is the only show they're playing in either of my areas [NJ or MA]. And it'd be good bonding with my sister, for whom Counting Crows tonight was the first concert attended in years. On the con side... My parents are all set to take me back Wednesday morning; to push it back to Thursday morning'd be a pain in the ass for them. I have finals Thursday [at eleven, two, and from four to six]. That last final means I'll have to skip crew practice. Our first race is Saturday morning [and I'm coxing a shell in it], so we don't have practice Friday [giving the rowers a rest]. So Wednesday is my last practice before the race.

After much inner debate, and asking Jon for advice, I decided to skip the concert in hopes they'll come around again. But I told my sister to go and enjoy it for the both of us. She might not, 'cause her boyfriend's a lazy moron who doesn't appreciate good music and would probably prefer sitting at home and watching TV tomorrow night. Sigh.

Hm. Maybe I can arrange to take the LinProg final another time [that's the four to six final]. I've heard Dalakouras is lenient about that. Then I could go to the last practice. Because I really need it. Yeah. I'll send an email and ask him. Then maybe I'll get a couple hours of sleep before heading back up to Worcester.

So the term's over. Had a hectic Thursday. Final at eleven [Probability]. Went to meet LinProg project partner at noon. Couldn't find her. German final at two. Two-hour LinProg final at three. Crew at five. Yep. Thursday sucked. And crew practice sucked. A varsity coxswain got mad at me and bitched me out. So, instead of brushing it off, what did I do? Yeah, that's right. I broke down and cried. Oh yeah. I'm tough.

Friday afternoon I got an email from the head of the German department. Apparently I failed Advanced German I. Again. So I can't take Advanced German II next term. Need to schedule something else in. Sigh.

Saturday was the first crew race for the novice team. Woohoo. It was all fucked and not run well at all. So they fucked our start, which messed me up. So we're supposed to stay to the left of these buoys that they place on the course. Okay. And there's a shallow area they warned us about. Okay. Now, just to the right of this shallow area, to mark it off, they put a buoy. The problem is... the buoy is exactly the fucking same as the center line buoys. So I see the shallow water buoy coming up, and I don't see any land sticking up, so I steer to the left of it. And nearly beach the fucking boat. Fuckin' A. We extricated ourselves, though, and kept going. I've no idea how we did in the race. Probably not well. Certainly better than one of the boats from St. John's. They ran over the shallows, broke off their rudder and and slashed a hole in the boat. So we did better than them.

After the race, we're sitting in the bus. It's a charter. Nice. It has tinted windows. Or at least I thought they were tinted. The bus parked next to ours is the University of Vermont's girls' team. And they start to change in there. And so we stare. After they're done changing, I'm the only person still staring. And then... one of the girls waves at me. I was stunned. Just stunned.

Saturday night, Dashboard Confessional at the Palladium. Openers: Remedy Sessions, Hot Rod Circuit, and Ash. They were alright. Some dude called me an asshole for smoking in the pit. [shrug] Meh. That sort of thing I can ignore. Yelled along to Dashboard. Kept yelling for him to play "A Plain Morning". They didn't. Oh well. The coolest part of their set? Scott Schoenbeck from The Promise Ring as bassist. And they did the So Impossible EP set as a closer, though. That was good. Almost cried at the peak of "Hands Down". Almost.


So now I'm back in Jersey. Yee-haw.

Oh, and another piece of interesting email I got Friday... Torie wrote me back. Again. She wrote me back after that incident of drunken email-writing, and then I wrote her back. Apparently I included my website address in my signature. So she went to it. And yes, she dug up the entries I wrote about her. Apparently she'd been having a bad day. And my site cheered her up. Rock. So glad it didn't creep her out.

Got Neverwinter Nights just after finals. Fun game. I've been playing a bard. A hot, half-elven, female bard. It's tough at times, but still fun. Too bad my mother's laptop can't handle it. Maybe I'll take my computer home when I go up to Worcester with Lacy on Wednesday. Definitely beats Baldur's Gate. I got about two screens into that game before it got so boring I started cheating. With NWN, I have yet to consult a walkthrough or cheat in any way. I know, quite the change for me.

Sigh. Guess I'll go read in bed or something.

Saw White Oleander a couple nights ago. It's about a girl whose mother goes to prison [and whose father left home], so she gets kicked around foster homes and an orphanage. Alison Lohman [the main character] was cute. And Michelle Pfeiffer's aging well. But Robin Wright Penn and Renée Zellweger [both of whom I can remember looking fuckin' hot not-so-long-ago] looked awful. Meh. The movie was nice. I cried a bit.

It was the first movie I'd seen in theaters since ... July, I think. Brought a book to read before the movie started. Weird thing, now; got to the theater fifteen minutes before the show time. The lights were down and trailers were showing. The trailers ran until around ten minutes after the listed show time, then the movie began. Is this standard practice now? If so, I have problems with it. I like watching the trailers. I show up on time so as not to miss them. I don't care if the movie starts later; the trailers are part of the movie experience. They let me know what movies to look out for [or avoid].

Speaking of which... they've adapted Chicago into a movie. I love the musical. But I really could do without seeing actors like Catherine Zeta-Jones, Richard Gere and Queen Latifah butchering it. Though I think I'd like Renée Zellweger better than Ann Reinking as Roxie. Eh, I'll probably see it over winter break.

Another movie that looks interesting: Punch-Drunk Love. Yes, it's got Adam Sandler. And generally, his movies are shit. But Big Daddy was passable. And this new one's by Paul Thomas Anderson of Boogie Nights and Magnolia fame. It looks pretty good.

Went to see Our Lady Peace up in Worcester last night. Single opener: The Juliana Theory. I had some respect for them before. I didn't really listen to their stuff. But damn, were they awful. Beyond fuckin' belief. I went with Jon, Lacy and Candice. Once Our Lady Peace got goin', I lost them in the pit. Did run into a guy from the varsity crew team. He said they all thought Cara [the cox who yelled at me] was a bitch. I chose not to point out the varsity rowers who'd joined in. I kept drifting around the pit, looking for Jon, Lacy and Candice. Turns out they were up front. Oh well. I ended up finding some guy who I recognized but couldn't remember from where. Talked to him afterwards; he's in LnL.

OLP's set was good. During "One Man Army" Raine Maida climbed onto the side balcony; at the end of that song, he leapt into the crowd. That was pretty cool. They did about half the songs off Gravity, though not "A Story About A Girl". The only one I knew the words to was "Somewhere Out There". [The guy behind me at the time didn't. But he didn't let that stop him from yelling the wrong words the entire song.] They did "Clumsy" and "Superman's Dead". And "Starseed". Excellent. They only did three off Spiritual Machines, though. "Right Behind You (Mafia)", "Are You Sad?" and "In Repair". Good songs, all. Wish they'd have done "The Wonderful Future" or "Made To Heal". Still good. They closed with "4AM". Fantastic.

All in all, not the best show I've been to. But still decent.

Just checked my grades. Aced Probability. Oh yeah. No idea how, given my confusion on the final, but I'm not going to complain. I knew I failed German. No surprise there. And in Linear Programming... I got a Q. That's right. No typo [on my part, anyway]. A fuckin' Q. What does that mean? I tried looking at "grade detail", but that was no help. So confused. Emailed my advisor. Too scared to email Dalakouras about it. If I end up passing it, I'll take Discrete Optimization next term. If not, I'll go with Group Theory.

Providence. Met Cafe. The Movielife, with openers Noelle, Orange Island, and Fairweather. Of the Movielife/Brand New tour shows, we go to the one the night Brand New's taking a break. Crapsticks. The lead singer for the first opener, Noelle, is completely smashed. Admits to such during the set. Still decent. The bass player has long hair and headbangs. I aspire to that. The other openers are decent enough.

By the time Noelle's done, Jon and I have each found a girl to obsess over. Jon's picked this girl in a plaid button-up shirt with wavy brown hair, who he says reminds him of Marie Corris, a girl on the swim team in high school. And my girl... well. She's short, around four foot eleven. Brown hair, in a ponytail. Wearing a horizontally striped... okay, I say it was a tanktop. Jon said it was a shirt with really, really short sleeves. She kind of reminded me of Charlotte Garden in general; her face reminded me of Andrea.

Jon's girl left after Orange Island's set. I stared at mine periodically. I entertained the notion of going up to her and saying something like, "Hi. My name's Emmanuel. My friend Jon and I were having a disagreement over your shirt. I say it's a tanktop. He thinks it's a shirt with really short sleeves." Then she might say her name and what she thought of her shirt. Problem is, I'd have nothing to say after that. So I just stood there and stared.

Lost her during Fairweather, but Jon found her from his six foot high perspective. During the Movielife's set I ended up right behind her. [Okay. I lied. I fought my way forward to be behind her.] I think she said "Hi" to me, but it was drowned out. Followed her to the merch table and lost her. I'd given up and Jon and I were heading out the door. I'm kicking myself for losing her again when Jon twists my head around. She's right behind us. Well, shit. I manage a nervous smile, turn around and keep moving. We get out the door and turn left; she and her friend turn right. Ah, well.

Fucked up dreamin' last night. It's only coming back in bits and pieces now.

It started out with me at home. I got a letter from Katie. Obviously I was really excited. Can't really remember the contents. There was something about her losing her citizenship. Which is weird, considering she's in the Navy. That's all I can remember. Damn.

Then there was a bit where I was at practice with the crew team. But we seemed to be practicing in an airport hangar. And not on water; they'd rigged up a mock boat and connected it to some ergs. And buses kept driving through the hangar, turning around and heading out without stopping.

Crew practice ended, and for some reason there was talk of going to church. Not just any church; some of the guys were talking about going to St. Thomas the Apostle. This being the church I used to go to when I was younger, where I was baptized and confirmed. And so I'm there with some guys from crew. I get the urge to go up front and pretend to be a priest. So I'm standing at the pulpit yelling. And no one notices. So I head back to my seat. Next to my parents.

From here, the memory really degenerates. Somehow, an egg is presented to me. And it's my job to guard it. And more shit happens. Then the egg hatches. It's an alligator. This seems to trigger something. There's a lot of fighting. The dream continues to be in third-person, but I lose myself. The laast thing I can remember is two people fighting on a bridge. It's kind of like a drawbridge into the house where I'd imagine I'm guarding the baby alligator. One of my defenders is taking on John Steed from the Avengers [played by Ralph Fiennes in my dream]. Steed's trying to get into the house, but he isn't a bad guy. Defender doesn't get this. So they're fighting on the bridge. Defender falls through. Steed grabs defender's arm. They both end up falling through. It's a long drop. So they're free-falling, still holding on to each other. Then Steed pops an umbrella.

It's at this point I wake up, wondering about the strain of deceleration and whether the umbrella will give or Steed's arm will. I also think of HALO jumps and what happens if someone opens too late or early. Can't get back to sleep. Ah, well. It's almost three anyway.

So I'm sitting in PH2501 [Photonics] when this smell hits me. It's kind of like the smell of a clove. Like the smell of someone who's smoked for a long time and uses something to try to cover it up. Ineffectively. It just brings me back to freshman year for some reason. So I'm sitting here waxing nostalgic while Quimby goes on about fiber optic communication.

Quimby says something about how engineers might have a problem with his class. They'll want to know where they can apply the lessons. But for Quimby, it's just about understanding why things are the way they are. This makes me think of what I hate about physics. See, I like knowing why the world is how it is. But the dual nature of light. That's what bothers me the most. Sometimes a wave, sometimes a particle... yeah, I don't know. It just pisses me off. Guess I shouldn't have picked Photonics to finish off my physics minor.

Yeah, so... Tuesday. I've been quoting Dashboard Confessional's "Tonight I'll Take What I Can Get" quite a bit in away messages on AIM. Tuesday night it applied more than ever.


I'm getting too used to drinking beer. It's just so available.


Went to the Coffeehouse. Josh Cole and Rose Polenzani. Josh Cole ranges from decent to sucktacular. When he busts out the harmonica, I cringe. So... awful... Rose Polenzani's alright. As far as Coffeehouses go. I continue to hit new lows of desperation. I think she looked at me once or something; this was the highlight of my day. Well, at the time.

Must stop being desperate. Desperation landed me Kate. Desperation landed me Heather. ... At least with Kate I didn't delude myself.


Eh. So I went drinking with LnL people after the Coffeehouse. Played my first game of Beirut. Rob and I against Jake and Mike Flanagan. We lost by one cup. I sank a good number of theirs. It was a ten-cup game. I think I sank four of theirs. It was kind of fun.


Okay, so I didn't get the girl. Ah, well.

No idea why I picked this title. The only person I know who'll get it doesn't even read my site.

Had a series of vivid dreams last night. The first one took place in Alden Hall. Some magician who was a real asshole was performing. And apparently I was on stage crew or something, in the wings. So he has some rigged deck of cards that's all-important to his act. Which he leaves on stage while he goes out into the audience. So I run on stage and yell something like, "How good are you at 52-pick-up?" Then I whip the cards out into the crowd. They scatter everywhere. It's beautiful. Asshole magician gets mad and starts running toward me. And I wake up. I lie in bed a while, thinking, "What the fuck?" Then I roll over and go back to sleep.

Sueño numero dos. There's some outdoor concert on a false-to-life version of the WPI quad. I'm sitting on a friend's blanket; said friend is off with his girlfriend somewhere. A girl comes up and lays her blanket down next to mine, and lies down on it. We talk a bit. My friend's blanket is huge and hers isn't all that big, so I offer to trade. Which we do. And so she's lying on my friend's blanket and I'm lying on hers. And we enjoy the concert some more. And then we kiss. Just once; that's all. Then I either can't remember the next part of the dream, or it abruptly cuts to the next day. I go to Boston with some acquaintances. I don't even remember doing anything in Boston; just coming back to Worcester from there. I think we're on a bus. The bus passes the girl from the concert. She's packing stuff into her car. And... washing it. Yeah. Confusing.

Once at WPI, me and my acquaintances disperse. For the most part. Me and another guy walk down the street for a while. I'm heading back towards the girl. He stops at some used record shop. Then I run into Deborah on the street. She's off to a movie and dinner with some friend of hers and some woman. For some reason, I hang with them for a bit. You'd think I'd be in a rush. But no; I'm an idiot. I end up holding their movie tickets. And I talk to the woman, who's an accountant. She says something about how she can't jump out of the window in an emergency, and something about landing on her head and forgetting important information. She offers me an internship for the summer. The three of them have headed off to their movie when I realize that I've still got their tickets. Well, technically, some kid on the street has them, since I seem to have sold my shirt to him [with the tickets in the breast pocket]. So I run down the street, in search of this kid. Eventually I find him and get the tickets back. And I'm heading off to return the tickets and subsequently head off after the girl when I wake up. Fan-fucking-tastic. Even in my dreams I don't get the girl.

I lay awake a bit. It's seven in the morning. I grab a Pepsi and just sit in bed, drinking it and thinking about the concert girl in the dream. Eventually I resign myself to some more sleep. The third dream... I don't really remember the details. It would have been a pedophilic fantasy, if I weren't also about eleven in the dream. Oddly, people I know from WPI were in it. Most notably, Ryan Sternberg was there. And even in the dream I wanted to throttle him. Yep. It was kind of Romeo and Juliet. In the sense that my parents seemed to hate this eleven-year-old girl and her parents hated me. I don't really remember the end, but it was probably just as abrupt as the other two I had.

Yeah. Guess I'll go to sleep now. I've got a nine class now. And I've got to go to the registrar at some point. Sigh.

First things last. After the movie tonight, went walking with Lindsay to Chopper, because she'd said she wanted pie, but only if someone else wanted some. No one else wanted to. But I could always go for cherry pie. [Sidebar: No, the first thing I think of when I think of cherry pie isn't the Warrant-esque perverted thing. I think of Kyle McLachlan in Twin Peaks with his coffee and cherry pie. Though I'm not sure if that ever actually happened in the show, or if it was a product of my six-year-old mind. Funny that that's what I remember most about the show. Something that may not have even happened in it. Either way, cherry pie evokes a sort of hardcore detective thing. And that's why I like it.] So anyway, we go to Chopper. There's some mild movie discussion. A good amount of silence. As it turns out, the pie there turns her off. So she gets ice cream. And now that I've actually psyched myself up for some pie, I get half a cherry pie. Mm-mmm. So we get our stuff and part. My point? It was good. Or at least, not bad. And I think that goes both ways.

Going back chronologically... MIIB [Men In Black II: Back In Black] was the movie. I went to the second showing only. Eh. I'd seen it before. Some parts were good, but some parts were simply awful. An example of the latter: Frank the pug barking along to the Baha Men's "Who Let The Dogs Out". Worth seeing once.

Why did I only go to the second showing? Went to see Red Dragon with my flatmates. I swear, the Hannibal Lecter series just gets worse with each movie. I mean, chronologically in terms of when the movie was made, not the canon order. Silence Of The Lambs was good. Hannibal sucked. I blame Julianne Moore for that one. She could never replace Jodie Foster. And Red Dragon... just... blah. Well, most of the killing happens before the movie picks up. Yeah, I'm ruining it. Whatever. I'm saving you money. There's a bit of death at the end, but it simply doesn't satisfy. Thumbs-up? Thumbs-down.

Before going to Red Dragon I IMed Lindsay and laid claim to one of the later reels of the second movie. 'Cause I figured, Red Dragon at quarter past seven, it's a little over two hours long, I'm not making in time for the beginning of the second showing. Okay. About five after six I check my mail. Around five Lindsay had emailed me. Contains the following: "could you bring some stabbing westward/linkin park (preferably minimizing the cursing if possible)?  i've been haveing [sic] cravings all day." Damn. I can't deny the audience the listening pleasure of Stabbing Westward! So I run up to campus, drop my CDs and head home. The key word is run. I am so out of shape. Takes me ten minutes or so. Total, I mean. That's just pathetic.

Keepin' on goin' back... Last night hung out at Ho Farms a bit with Liam. It was the first night we actually got up and checked out the magazine rack. Heh. Highlight of the conversation? When Paul and Josie showed up and we talked a bit. Josie says something about "skater/Hot Topic kids". I blurt out, "Oh, you mean losers." She just glares at me. That was great. I later expressed my urge to beat down certain people with a baseball bat. Certain people being anyone who is concerned about where their clothes come from. Liam says something about it, like, if a certain company made quality products, you should be proud about it. Bitch, please. Kids shop at Abercrombie and Fitch because that's the trend, and they think that people will like them if they wear that shit [or hate them for not wearing it, whatever]. I'm a hypocrite, but I don't think I'm being hypocritical on the clothes thing. I shop at Hot Topic. I buy Gap sometimes. I wear J. Crew sometimes. I get my clothes anywhere I feel like. I just follow a few rules. One of those rules being that I won't wear clothing that blatantly advertises the store, and I don't think anything of the places I shop. Example: I will never think I'm cool for buying a shirt at Hot Topic, or wear a shirt that says "Old Navy Athletics" across the chest. That is simply stupid.

Long story shorter, people piss me off. Baseball bat. For all of them. Especially little skate fucks. I said to Josie after the glare, "It's those little skater punks that created the show Jackass." She agreed with me on that one. ... And not just about it being obviously true. She agreed with the implication that Jackass is a poor show. Oh, and a poor movie. ... What was my point? Oh, right. Baseball bat.

Other points of interest about the Ho Farms excursion. I drank nearly a quart of eggnog. I felt in an eggnog mood. At least, I did at the beginning of the quart. Around six servings [four ounces each] later, I'd changed my mind. I downed another serving and chucked it. Man. Fucked me up worse than booze, but without the pleasant aspects. Bunch of crew people stopped in to Ho Farms. Talked to them each a bit. It was weird. Usually there isn't much acknowledgement between us outside of practice. For some reason, they came up and talked to me. [shrug] Liam said something about me getting a new crowd. Getting a new crowd wouldn't be a bad idea. But the crew people probably aren't what I'm looking for.

Going even further back... Friday night. WPI hosted some conference for kids from science- and technology-oriented high schools. That was Friday afternoon. Friday night they held some sort of dance for them in Alden Hall. I stopped in. The declining stock of the underage, indeed. That's pretty much all I'll say about that. It was simply awful. I shudder to think I'm only a year or two older than them. They made me feel old, but... looking at them. that wasn't a bad thing.

And Friday afternoon/morning, whatever. My classes are finalized. I'm overloading. Yeah, I'm crazy. I'm taking MA3233 [Discrete Optimization], MA3621 [Mathematical Statistics], MA3823 [Group Theory], and PH2501 [Photonics]. I'm also taking a gym class [PE1015, Badminton and Table Tennis]. This makes my schedule a bitch. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, class from nine to ten, then class from one to four. On Mondays and Fridays I have gym from eleven to noon. At five, I have crew, though that'll be winding down as we hit winter. Though, apparently, I'm expected to go to the rowers' practices. The off-lake ones where they work out. Don't know what I'm supposed to do. Meh.

So quicksilver girl. Remember her? I call her quicksilver girl based off the title to the other entry I wrote about her at the beginning of A term. She's the one I remember having all sorts of funky hair colors freshman year. She was in my Probability class last term. And she's in my Group Theory class. And she's not the only girl in that class I have to stare at. There's this girl, Joanne. [Which is weird; I didn't really see her as a Joanne.] Anyway. She's got close, roughly-cut dark brown-reddish hair, except for two strands in the front, which are kept long and colored blue. So cute. And she gets excited over little things [a talking doll, a pen], which is at once both kind of cute and also kind of ditzy/immature/annoying. But that's me, getting attracted to girls for the same reasons that end up pissing me off most.

I should go to sleep. But I've got this pie to finish. And Liam wants me to check a song out. Gah. I'll get to sleep soon enough. So tired. But I'm busy. This is great.

Okay. So that cute girl in my Group Theory class isn't named Joanne. It's Joanna. Joanna Begin. Monday in Group Theory her and her friend, Nina Simon, were talking about throwing a party at their apartment. Yeah, I was just eavesdropping. But they weren't exactly whispering or anything, and it's not like I had anything else to pay attention to.

So yesterday night I get an email from her announcing this party. Confusion hits first. Like, what the fuck? Oddly, at no point was I deluded enough to think I was individually invited to this party. Turns out I got the email because I'm on a shit-ton of email lists from clubs I signed up for back in the day and never actually joined. This time I got it through the ultimate frisbee team's mailing list.

The question is, would it be weird if I went?

Eh, I don't know what I'll do tonight. Frat house tours are tonight, and I told some people I'd check it out. And then there's the coffeehouse.

Forty-five after midnight. Loaded. Leaves. Devil's whore. Up all night. These are the mental notes I have from tonight. Most trivial first.

Up all night. I had Counting Crows' "Up All Night" stuck in my head entire walk home, so I'm using that as my away message on AIM. Yep.

Okay, the next all are pretty equal in terms of triviality. Forty-five after midnight. Loaded. Yeah, so I got drunk tonight, keeping with Tuesday night tradition. At Justin's again this week. Points of interest? One. Malibu and Sobe Elixir mix well. Two. My game of beirut against someone named Dave from Lambda Chi Alpha. Six-cup game. He got me down to six-two. That was horrific. Then I came back, and it was one-two [him leading] for a while. Then I got it down to one-all. That continued as we both missed. And then I lost. Oh well. The comeback was cool. And just in case I don't remember... Friday night, go to Justin's and Josh's at ten-thirty.

Leaves. On the walk home... leaves all over the sidewalk. Man, I love fall and winter. Yep.

Devil's whore. Yeah, this is as important as my notes got. Tonight there was mention of Lindsay. And Justin said something about how Lindsay would throttle him on sight, or something. Then I made some comment along the lines of, "Yeah, I know." So some LnL freshman asks me about the backstory. I decide to go the simple route and tell him that Justin asked her out and got shot down, and the same for me, except twice. Yep. The devil's whore comes from something Justin says later. Apparently Lindsay had an interview today, and was wearing her red dress, with the black jacket and boots. I don't know; I didn't see her. "Devil's whore" was just how Justin described her. Inside, I reminisced.

So I ended up not going to house tours. I got out of crew practice around six-thirty [it's earlier because we're not out on the lake anymore]. House tours were at seven. So I decided to check out Coffeehouse setup, see if they needed any help. They didn't, but I stuck around. So I didn't go to house tours. Nor did I go to Joanna's and Nina's party. [Weirdly, Joanna was not in Group Theory today. Nina didn't know where she was.] The Coffeehouse was alright. The music was decent. I got owned by some guy in Scrabble. Talked to James about music, learned he digs old rock mostly. James bought the CD for the Coffeehouse band. I was stunned. But they were alright. At one point they covered "Love's Theme" by Love Unlimited Orchestra. That was the highlight for me.

Okay. Apologies for the disjointed-ness of this entry, but you can't expect much from me on a Tuesday night. I'm going to go crash now.

Okay, one last thing. Who the hell is ShortnessChic on AIM? I came back to my computer just now, totally confused. Don't know who that is, and they're not only at the moment for me to check their profile. Ah, well.

Last night was weird... in that I can focus on something and remember it with absolute clarity, but when I think of the whole, it just blurs.

Where did the night start... ah. The concert band concert. I'd shown up to set up for some acapella concert tomorrow night, but the guy in charge wasn't there. So I hung out with Paul and Josh, who were watching over the concert band's rehearsal. One of the flutists was hot. As the band was packing up and leaving the stage, I went "Mm-mmm." Except really loudly. I was kind of concerned one of the band had heard me. And the hot flutist was talking toward us really fast, but she was just rushing out the door. The band went downstairs. I hung out with Lauren [trumpet player, from New Jersey] a while, stared at the flutist. When the band went out to play, I watched a bit, then went home to take a shower.

Yep. Showered, dressed, and headed out. Met up with Zip [not Tzip, but Justin Zipkin, a guy from LnL] and headed over to Josh's and Justin's party. Pounded some beers. Played and lost a game of beirut. Shot of Soco. Went with Kirby and TJ out to Chopper. Kirby wanted some orange juice; TJ and I made sure he didn't die on the trip. On Josh's street, there was a government car. TJ and I tried to convince Kirby to piss on it. Unsuccessfully. So we were standing in the street, yelling, "Come on, Kirby, piss on the government car." This went on for a few minutes, until someone [female] shouts from one of the houses: "I really don't think it's a good idea to piss on the government car." Kirby and TJ bolt. I grab the orange juice and yell, "Uh, thanks, nameless stranger," and walk off.

It was snowing. On our way in, we run into some guys heading to Wendy's. Um... Jake, Josh, and Dave. Kirby thrusts money at Dave and tells him to pick him up the biggest burger he can get with that money, then slumps onto the couch. So I go to Wendy's with them. Dave drives. Intoxicated. It's fun. We return; Jake's feelin' sick. Apparently he partied before getting to Josh's and Justin's. He spends the rest of the night praying to the porcelain god.

I play and lose two more games of beirut. One's close, the other's just embarassing. More beers. After making sure Zip's alright [I feel somewhat responsible, having brought him there], I head out for Crow.

Jordan did put me on the list. I was slightly amazed he'd remember. So I party at Crow for a while. Run into Kate Leach; I went DDRing with her in Boston one time last year. Talk to a bunch of Crow guys; one of them gives me a lot of advice on rushing that sums up to: "Get to know everyone." I hung out with the DJ, picking songs for a while. Talk to Rob, who's sprayed his hair with something fluorescent. More beers. The party closes with everyone yelling along to "Piano Man". I join in 'cause I'm loaded and it seems like a good idea.

I head to T. Sam's with some of them afterwards. I get up to go to the bathroom, and someone takes my chair. So I hang out for a while at another table, but I am so totally gone. Mentally. And it's a short walk back, so I head home. One of the Crow guys walks me home. That was nice. Too bad I can't remember who it was.

After that, there's a period of just black. No idea what the hell I did in my room. I guess I sat down on my bed, fell over and went to sleep, 'cause I woke up like that around ten. Undressed and crawled into bed. Got up around noon. Called Lindsay and said I'd be right over to bench the movie, as soon as I eat something.

That's taken me around an hour. I got to go. So... last night? Rocked.

Woke up with the biggest headache. It intensified as I was benching the movie. At two points in reel four my attention wandered too far and the film got caught up on the spindle and tore. So the film there's all bent, and it's missing a couple frames whose sprocket holes were unsalvageable. Headache's cleared up now. I think I'll grab some dinner and go watch some girls sing.

So this morning I'm like, I could spend all of tonight playing video games and still this weekend would kick ass. But no. It got even better.

First off, Rob canceled his projection practical for the sixteenth. So they've got the licensed projectionists all set to do it. Someone should take the date. It's me or James. James isn't up for it. So I decide to do it. Lindsay wants me to re-take the written. I will, sometime. I'm "crew chiefing" the second movie tomorrow night. In that Lindsay's technically in charge, but I run the show and she's around in case something happens.

So, tonight. After my horrid benching this afternoon, I go help strike the pops concert. End up hanging out with Rob and Josh until nine thirty. Then I go help strike the Interstate 8 show. [Interstate 8 is the all-female acapella group at WPI.] I get invited to the post-party. Hang out there. So many girls. Some are... eh. But quite a few are hot. Taken, of course. Ah, well.

Talked to Natalie about seeing Counting Crows. They're in Lowell on the 15th. I'll check for tickets and see if I can catch a ride with her. Met a bunch of people I know through people's online journals. Like Jillian, who I'd heard about from Kate Leach's log and AIM profile. It was fun.

Tequila was surprisingly unpopular at the party. Me and two other guys finished a liter. That was great. One of those guys, Eric, went down to T. Sam's after the party with myself and Jordan. He and his friends were apparently visiting from the University of Rochester. They're an acapella group, too, and one of theirs knows someone in I8, so they came up. Cool guys. Though, I don't really dig the acapella. The only song I was at the I8 concert for was their rendition of Garbage's "I Think I'm Paranoid". It just didn't do it for me. There was a lot of acapella during the party, too. They were doing songs like Dirty Vegas' "Days Go By" and the chicken dance song. I didn't take part, but it was mildly entertaining.

So yeah, T. Sam's. There are these two middle-aged women at the next table over. We end up talking to them. I only got one of their names. Janet. The other, no idea what her name is, but I know she teaches preschool. I just found that funny. So these women hear me and Jordan bitching about the WPI guy-girl ratio. And they ask their waitress if she goes to WPI. She does. Her name's Ashley. The middle-aged women try to hook her up with me. Heh.

So Jordan and I walk the UR guys back to where they're spending the night. Then Jordan goes home. I tell him I'm going back to T. Sam's. For Ashley. When I said that, I was kidding, but I was already past my apartment, so I went. Hung out with the middle-aged women some more. And they continued to try to hook me and Ashley up. Unsuccessfully. Drat.

Things about Ashley... A freshman, lives in Institute. [I said something about passing Institute daily on my walk to campus, and the women made jokes about me casing Ashley.] Chem. Eng. major. She said something about us maybe being in the same classes, but... yeah, I don't think that's happening. Fiddlesticks. She was cute. Short dark hair. Kind of had a purplish tint to it. Meh. WPI is getting to me too much.

Alright. Sleep. Contented sigh.

Reminder to me: Wednesday, four thirty, LnL office. Re-take written projection test.

Okay. Me being in charge tonight wasn't bad. Forgot a few things, but nothing serious. [Thumbs-up.] Yep. I'll probably take charge again for one of the movies next week. And then my practical. ... Heh. So we're watching the slide show that FilmCom puts on before the movie. One slide has the upcoming movies. I see XXX and say, "Ugh. Triple-X. Hey, that reminds me. Lindsay, what movie's my practical?" Well, don't you know, it's XXX. Fan-fuckin'-tastic. I guess that's good. I won't care if it accidentally gets shredded or... catches on fire... Hey, that's a good idea...

So the movie was Windtalkers. Just as bad this time around. The booth commentary made it still an enjoyable experience, though. Lindsay and I are talkin' and things are good. Sometimes I catch myself staring at her... she's still cute. But nothing's getting to me. Yep.

On the walk home I was reminded of something that happened last night. When I returned to the middle-aged women in T. Sam's. There was this guy at another table with whom the two women struck up a conversation. The guy was college-aged, and so very clearly flirting. And not just flirting, but being incredibly sleazy and shady-looking. I must have been sobering up, because if I was drunk I wouldn't have been able to keep myself from laughing at him. God damn. That was hilarious.

Now to eat some dinner and do some homework. Yep.

Digital UNIX (rational.WPI.EDU) (ttyp8)

login: ego
Password:
Last login: Mon Nov  4 03:06:55 from XXXXXXXXXX

Digital UNIX V4.0G (Rev. 1530); Tue Oct 23 12:09:09 EDT 2001


CCC Station - Authorized Use Only

Mail all questions or problems to the address helpdesk@wpi.edu or use the help command to view the CCC Helpdesk web at http://www.wpi.edu/+CCC/Help.

Please use the aup command to view the Acceptable Use Policy of the WPI network.

> cd public_html
> ls dump-stats.txt
dump-stats.txt not found
>

Slept for about two hours last night. And I dreamt. Not of much, but I dreamt nonetheless. And I remember it. It was me sitting and messing around with an alarm clock. Subjective, in-dream time was a few minutes. It was metal. And ornate. Shaped like a bottle of Crown Royal. But smaller. It had a top half which rotated, and that was how you set the time. You could only set it for a maximum of ninety minutes. In the dream I twisted the top all the way to ninety minutes, then twisted it back around to zero. It rang. I sat and stared at it for a while. Then I woke up.

You would think I woke up to my own alarm going off. But I didn't. I woke up around quarter to eight, whereas my alarm clock is set for fifteen after. Also, my alarm clock doesn't ring. It either buzzes, plays the radio, or plays a CD. So my alarm clock didn't integrate itself into my dream. Though that would have made more sense, wouldn't it've.

So I set my alarm for seven fifteen last night. At seven fifteen I wake up and think about heading to a professor's office hour [which is why I set the early alarm]. Nah. I figure I'll sleep a bit more. Re-set alarm for quarter to eight. Sleep.

Wake up at quarter to eight. Think about the office hour again. Fuck it. Re-set alarm for quarter after eight [its usual setting]. Back to sleep.

Wake up at quarter after eight. Decide to not go to my nine o' clock. Re-set alarm for eleven. Sleep.

Have fucked-up nightmares about giant insects. Damnit. Y'see, the reason I was drawn back to sleep was this dream about a cute girl. So that's what I was heading back to. But no... A couple of times I wake up in a panic. Or at least I think I do. The nightmare continues.

Alarm goes off at eleven. I just smack it and lay there in bed. Just lay there, for a couple hours. Then I got up and went to class. Sigh.

So tonight Rob made some comment about making it into my log. Heh. Kind of amused me. Like making it into my log was some kind of honor. If that were true, Lindsay would be way up there.

While drunk tonight, I explained the past two years between me and Lindsay in condensed form. To Rob and T.J., a freshman in LnL. Apparently someone told Rob that Lindsay and I had dated once upon a time. I said it to them, and I'll say it now. "God. I wish." And I got word that Justin and Lindsay dated around the time that she told me it hurt too much to be friends. And that that period of time is when she began hating Justin. I'm not sure what to think of that.

Oh, man. Tonight she was at Coffeehouse setup. And... I don't know why, but... it hurt. It just did. I can't even say why.

Moving on. Tonight the subject of porn was brought up. And so I made jokes about how I have the biggest porn collection ever. [Which isn't true. At least Chad has a bigger collection than I do.] But Justin says something like, "Oh, do you have the Lindsay video?" At first I think the alcohol or music is affecting my hearing. But no, that's what he said. So he explains that it's a rumor that Lindsay and Zac made a movie. I manage to keep from spazzing. After some more commentary, the subject is dropped. In the talk with Rob and T.J., it's brought up again. God, is that the last thing I want to think about.

Lindsay has always been... I don't know. The picture of innocence, I guess. For me. I never liked to think about that sort of thing. In fact, that sort of thing used to trigger breakdowns in me. It didn't do that tonight, but... it's still unsettling. I still have a crush on her, no question. But I have crushes on so many girls. The term has ceased to mean anything to me.

My breath smells of alcohol. Sigh. After this, I'm going to pass out on my bed. I've got an entry I wrote in class today. I'll type it up in the morning.

But first I'll finish up with tonight. So yeah, Lindsay was at Coffeehouse setup and strike. And yeah, I still feel something for her. I remember during strike, I was hoping she'd talk to me, or something. And she didn't. Aside from when I handed her the safeties for the lights, and she thanked me. Or when she was explaining what happened to one of the lights. Sigh. There was this feeling I used to get a lot around her, when it just felt like my heart increased in mass tenfold or so. Tonight was the first time I felt it since C-term last year. Yeah, so tonight I really needed to get drunk. Good thing I did.

That's all I'll say about Lindsay for now. The point is, she was there, I didn't expect it [she hadn't signed up for the event], and it was kind of painful.

Other things about tonight... hm. I won a Powerpuff Girls baseball cap at the Coffeehouse. They run a contest each week. This week it was "If you could pick a superpower to have, what would it be?" Normally, my answer would be omnipotence. But they mentioned the prize. And I wanted it. So I tried to think of something that would get applause [since that's what determines who wins]. I decided on "turning water into alcohol". And I convinced the LnL guys there to applaud for me. And I told Jeff and Natalie and E.O. to, as well. Must've worked; I won. A nice denim cap. With the Powerpuff Girls on it. I'm happy about that.

Hm. Other things. Played three beirut games tonight. The first time, it was me and this Lambda Chi named Dave against Rob and Justin. We killed them. They only sank four of ours. Then Dave and I played against Justin alone. He got ten cups; we each got six. I was left with three and Dave was left with four at the end. Then he and I took on T.J. and a Lambda Chi I know only as "Snood". It was a close game. At the end, they had one. We lost. Ah, well. It was a sweet run.

Heh. Just now I picked my lips 'til they bled. Actually, I've been doing that all day. Mm. The taste of blood. There's something about that... and something about the feeling as I rip part of myself away...

So every morning, around seven in the morning or so, this car honks repeatedly in the driveway of the next house over. Really fuckin' annoying, I know. So tonight when I got home, I pissed all over the handles to the driver's side doors for every car in their driveway. Unfortunately, there were witnesses. While I was pissing, one guy crossed the street. He probably saw me and looked away. And across the street, I saw one guy on his porch, smoking. Well, if they cared, they would've stopped me. So I'm guessing they don't. Whew.

Ha. The songs on Winamp are mocking me.



Yep. So my night was... good, I suppose. Tomorrow I'll end up reading this and thinking about Lindsay. And that's probably not what I want to do. But it's clear by now that I always do what's worst for me.

Actually, I've spent so long writing this entry that thinking about her is pretty much all I'm doing right now. God, I'm so fucked.

G'night.

It's a Thursday night. I have assloads of work due tomorrow. Okay. Maybe not assloads. There's the work due weekly in Photonics. But that's definitely going to be a pain in the ass. Says the professor: "For some of you, brevity is the soul of wit. But don't feel compelled to conserve paper for me." Yeah. He wants as long an explanation as possible. For everything. Sigh.

And there's Math Stats. I'm not even sure what's going on in that class. I mean, I'm there every day. But... yeah. I'm lost.

Group Theory. I actually did this work. Early. Finished it at the Coffeehouse. So Prof. Christopher says today that he's not sure if he's gone over it well enough to expect the homework tomorrow. So he's pushing it back. Fuck. The one thing I do early is postponed.

And Discrete Optimization? Yeah... uh... I haven't been to that class since Monday. I don't even know what's going on. But since I don't really think I'm sleeping tonight, I'll go to Servatius' office hour tomorrow at eight. I hope he doesn't still expect me to present that problem. I still don't understand it.

Yeah, so what did I do tonight instead of getting started on my copious work? I went and hung out with Crow at Jillian's. Played some pool, shot up some zombies. A good time was had.

I think I've pegged down who's using an anonymizer to view my site, too. Heh. I've promised not to say too much about that. [waves]

Tonight I realized that I really have to pass my projection test. Lindsay goes away D-term. If we don't have another licensed projectionist, what then? Yes. James could get licensed and be HP then. But ... man, I don't think James'll run things well. He's too uptight.

I snagged a couple Novemberfest security shirts. One's mine. The other I'll be giving to Lindsay. It may not be a good idea. But ... eh. Last year she was disappointed I couldn't get her a security shirt for Novemberfest. Even though there were only about sixteen shirts total... I still kicked myself. Well, not this year. Damn right.

Yeah... those old entries? All transferred to the new template. Have been for a couple months. I'm still hesitant about uploading them. Liam once asked me where I thought Lindsay and I would be in say, ten years. I said I could foresee us never speaking after college. And I can still foresee that. But somewhere, I still have hope that we'll be friends again one day and that I won't fuck it up. Again.

... And again...

Oh. I'm not going to see Counting Crows on the fifteenth. No ride. And I suppose it's a good thing I don't go. Since the next day I have to bench the movie and take my practical. And I already dropped a hundred dollars to see them with my sister [I paid for both tickets]. I don't think I should be spending another forty to see them again. Even though they're so much better live... Sigh. The CDs'll have to do...

And a last note. To end it light. I did laundry yesterday. The button-up shirt I was wearing last Friday had some vomit on the lapel. This was weird. I don't remember vomiting. But there's no way someone else's could have made it there. And nowhere else on my clothes was there vomit. Except for a couple of dots on my shoes. But that could have been anyone. I was thinking it was Kirby. But it might not have been vomit at all, either. So I ask Rob tonight if I had it on my shirt when I showed up at Crow. He couldn't remember, having been wasted himself. The conclusion I decided on was that I did vomit at home at some point in my eight-hour blackout period and wiped my mouth on my shirt. Yep...

Okay, so that wasn't really that funny. Hm. Well, now that I've mentioned laundry yesterday... So I put the clothes in, and I'm pouring the detergent. Where do I pour it? Not in the proper detergent spot, that's for sure. I pour it into the fabric softener spot. And there's no way to get it out. So I put detergent into the regular place and fear what'll happen. So the clothes get washed. Then, in the last rinse cycle, in goes the fabric softener. So my clothes are extra soapy. I didn't have enough time to re-wash them before the LnL meeting. I barely had enough time to dry them. In fact, they're still damp. So yeah. Maybe you'll find that funnier.

Gave Lindsay the shirt. She was in the LnL office reading some book. I just dropped it on her chest [she was leaning back in a chair], said something about making up for last year, and left. Came back as an afterthought, told her not to tell where she got it from. Left again.

Not sure what kind of reaction I was expecting. So I can't really say I'm disappointed.

Realized about an hour later that I should have gotten her keys from her, so I could bench the movie. Damn.

Went to T. Sam's with Brent for dinner tonight. On our way there, we run into Paul. He's just coming back from there. Says there's a lot of cute girls working there tonight. I rush.

He was on the ball. So many cute waitresses. And guess who was ours. Ashley. That's right; the girl with whom the middle-aged women were trying to hook me up. She either doesn't remember me, or chooses not to say anything. Well, she was "sort of" taken, as I recall. And maybe she thinks I don't remember. I don't know. I don't say anything, of course. I just sneak glances when I think she's not looking.

That night when I was there drunk with Jordan and the guys from U of Rochester, our waitress was this girl with long braids and a bandana. Same girl was there tonight. Again, no recognition. But that was different. I didn't talk to her last time. At least, I didn't say anything beyond standard customer-waitress interaction. I just saw her again. Walking back from campus, ran into her and a bunch of people on Boynton Street. Eye contact, maybe a flash of recognition, and I sped off. One of the guys in her group kept repeating, "I like tits," over and over. What. A. Dumbass. How is it that guys like that get to hang out with cute girls and bitterly sarcastic guys like me don't?

Sigh. I got but a few hours of sleep last night. All that homework. Made it to all my classes today. After Discrete Optimization, Servatius walked up to me and asked what's been up with me the last few days. I said I'd just been in a daze. He seemed to understand. Told me to do the assigned problems [3.1-5], see if I like any of them enough to present, and told me to come to his office hour Monday morning. Well... I'll try to make it.

So tired now. I'm supposed to go paintballing with Crow tomorrow morning. Leave at nine. I don't know if I want to go. I don't have any clothes that I can really get paint all over. Plus, I signed up for Novemberfest sound setup at eleven. [Estimated return from paintball is at two; the first sound check is scheduled for four.] And last S3 Rob crew-chiefed, there was little turnout for crew, and setup was... kind of stressful for him [and must've been a pain in the ass when the band's engineer swept him aside for the actual show]. So maybe I'll get up tomorrow, head down to Crow, say I'm sorry, but I can't make it, and go to Novemberfest. Yeah, that's probably my best bet.

Sleep now.

... Okay. I usually pick out the title last, to fit the entry I've made. Just picked out this one, for the whole drawn-to-stare-at-girls thing. So I'm thinking about the whole verse...


And I'm thinking, that's my life. And that's just kind of... sad...

Tonight, Novemberfest. Initially there was a huge turnout. Mostly girls. Weird. A couple I recognized. There was Lauren Julia Lilystrom [econ girl]; Joanna Begin and Nina Simon were there, too. J.R., another DJ I know, was assigned to take pictures. I got him to snap pictures of every cute girl. He was going to do that anyway, actually. But now he'll get me copies later. Yep. I'm depraved.

I'm actually still at Novemberfest at the moment. The fifth of six bands is playing. My favorite so far's been the first main act, named Suddenease. The other bands were... sucktacular.

Heh. The first opener was this WPI band called So Tired. They were giving out free t-shirts. There were two varieties. One just said "So Tired" in huge letters on the front. The other had on the back "So Tired 2002" and on the front... "I slept with the bass player from So Tired and all I got was this lousy t-shirt..." Heh. Naturally, I wanted one of the latter.

So I go up to the guy handing them out [the bassist; surprise, surprise] and ask him for one of the "I slept with the bass player" shirts. He refuses. Says he'll only give them to girls. And only certain girls. Apparently no fat chicks for him. I cry discrimination. I'm hanging out with Matt and Rob later at their boards [lighting and sound, repsectively] and Mike D. [bassist slut] comes over and offers Matt one of the "I slept with the bass player" shirts [they're friends]. Matt declines. I snag it instead. Yep.

After So Tired was done with their all-cover set, the crowd mostly cleared out. Damnit. The band that's up now is playing to a nearly empty house.

Sigh. We started the show an hour late, 'cause one of the sound snakes crapped out. So everything got pushed back. The last band was supposed to take the stage at 2250. Well, they're probably not going on until eleven thirty or so. So this delays strike. I'm probably not getting out of here until three or so.

I'm on the verge of falling asleep. Maybe I'll take a nap. I've got plenty of time.

After Novemberfest strike, which ended around two-fifteen, we all went to T. Sam's. Woo. And... guess who our waitress was. Yep. Ashley. So as she's seating us, I say to her, "So, Ashley, do you work here every night?" And she says, "Well, every weekend." And then there's silence. Sigh. Perhaps she does remember me. Otherwise, she'd probably ask how I knew her name. Maybe? I mean, they don't wear nametags. Either way, sigh.

As I was leaving Riley Commons for T. Sam's [left my bag there, had to pick it up], I hear someone yell, "EGo!" At first I think it's the guys in front of me, so I just keep walking toward them. Then the person yells again. It's a girl's voice. So I go, "Yeah?" I don't even see where this is coming from. And I'm crossing a street and there's a car heading toward me, so I'm not stopping. The person just goes, "Hey." So I go "Hey" back. And that's the entire exchange. I don't even know who it was. I'm thinking it was Deanna.

I wrote an entry about Novemberfest. During the show. I'll post it later. Right now, I'm just so fuckin' wasted. In the tired sense, not the drunk sense. Ah, well. Can't have everything. Have to be in the booth at noon tomorrow. So I'll sleep now.

Guess I won't be in Perreault tonight. K-19 was never delivered. Neither FilmCom nor LnL discovered this until today, hours before the movie. FilmCom didn't find out because the guy that usually takes it from the campus center to Perreault was away at some conference this weekend. And the people that usually bench it, either me or Lindsay, didn't bench on Saturday as usual. This week it was my job to bench, and I was at Novemberfest setup and strike all of yesterday. So yeah, no one found out until today, when I went to Perreault and there was no film. Lindsay and the FilmCom guys had a chat. It never got delivered.

So K-19 will not be shown tonight. Instead, FilmCom will rent a DVD of The Hunt For Red October and project it using the LCD projectors in Perreault. No job for LnL there. Ah, well.

I kind of needed the practice troubleshooting. But there's not usually a lot of problems anyway. Ah, well. Saturday's my test. [shiver] Yeah. I'm good to go. Right.

So some explanations. Yes, the girl last night who yelled to me was Deanna. Emailed her about it. Apologized for being rude. Explained being tired and wanting food and having a car coming straight at me down the road. She said it was cool. She's so cute. But not only taken, engaged. Sigh.

And the title of the post I wrote at Novemberfest? I was hanging out with Matt in the LnL office on Friday. He's a diehard Republican and ultra-conservative. And we were listening to Phish. Off his playlist. So I say to him, "You know who listens to Phish, Matt? Potheads." He gets flustered and denies smoking pot, and we have a good laugh. Flash forward. Novemberfest. Suddenease is playing. They cover Sublime's "Santeria". Matt and I yell along. So I say to Matt, "You know who listens to Sublime, right? Potheads." Then someone says that Suddenease reminds them of Dave Matthews Band. Of course, Matt and I seize the opportunity to drive a joke into the ground. But Matt likes Dave Matthews, too. So I deride him for being a closet pothead. Heh.

I had some revelations while coiling Edison after Novemberfest. Maybe I'll share them later. Maybe.

The last band at Novemberfest, Spyndakit? The ones who billed themselves as "rapcore"? Sucked ass. So much. I mean, I expected it, but still. So awful. I actually put in earplugs for them. I was hanging with Zip [once again, not Tzip, but Justin Zipkin] by the monitor board. We were both wearing earplugs, so I yelled, "Dude, these guys suck fuckin' ass!" We were right next to the stage. I think they heard me. Hehe. Baseball bat.

So I don't know what I'll do with my day now. Maybe I'll play some NWN.

Hey, maybe I'll go to the movie tonight and watch it. FilmCom's not charging because of the fuck-up. Eh, we'll see how I feel at six.

So I'm leaving Stratton after Group Theory and Deanna walks by, talking to someone. [She's got Calc II at the same time I have Group Theory.] She doesn't see me. So I catch up to her and say hi. And I'm starting to turn and head off to Photonics when I notice who she's talking to. Ashley. It's kind of funny, in the small world sense. Y'know, 'cause Ashley had said something about us being in the same classes or something, and I'd told her I doubted it. [This would be the first time we talked, of course. When I was drunk. Or... coming down after being drunk.] I guess the odds of having a class near hers at the time aren't all that slim. There aren't that many classrooms at WPI. I think I stood there, mouth hanging open in shock, in amazement of just how small the WPI community is. So I turned and walked away as fast as I could.

As much as I like keeping everything out in the open, lately I've been re-evaluating having authorization and friends-only entries. See, I really like not holding back. But I also like not being castrated. It's quite the tightrope to walk.

I was just in a brawl.

Went down to Crow for dinner. Which was good. Apparently tonight's AGD's [Alpha Gamma Delta's] bid night. So the girls take a banner and hang it from the bridge over the main entrance to campus. And it's a tradition for Crow and TKE to grab it. It's a contest.

As I said to many a Crow brother, "I'm always up for some theft." So I went with some of them.

We had a plan to snag the banner, drop it off the bridge to waiting people who would run it back to the Crow house. I was one of the potential runners.

Alas, it turned into a struggle, then a tug-of-war, then an all-out fight. I scrambled up to the bridge and jumped in. For most of it, I was in the middle, with my hands on the banner. Unfortunately, I was also not touching the ground. Eventually I was ejected.

So I stood and waited for an opening. None presented itself. So I took to grabbing on to TKEs and pulling them off the flag. I got a couple. But the last was the best. And most belligerent. Perhaps that's why it was the best.

He was one of the elder SocComm people. I reocgnized him from a few events. Short, black curly hair, and black or maybe Hispanic, I couldn't tell. HE was swarthy. So anyway, I get one of his hands off. And some huge Crow helps me out and slams into the TKE. Guy gets ejected hard. So he gets up and comes at me. Pushes me and says, "What? You want to start shit?" I grin, kind of chuckle, and say, "Oh, yeah." So he comes to push me again. I back up and he falls. He tries again and seemingly gives up.

Going back in time... AGD had a big rush turnout this year. Lots of new sisters. So they had two banners. So there were two separate fights. At the end, there were still two fights. But one of the banners just seemed too small. As I confirmed later, one of the banners was ripped in half. The whole banner was claimed by Crow and spirited away. The halves were what was being fought over.

Right after swarthy TKE gave up on me, the AGD sisters who stayed declared the contest done, as the remaining banners was torn in two. It had been for a long time, but whatever.

One of the Crow guys had suggested beforehand that we change the strategy to, "Forget the banners and just go for the sisters." I think that would've been more successful. Alas.

Someone had pulled a police alarm before anything had even started. So campus police showed up a little before anything began. When it ended, the cops rounded people up. Somehow, I wasn't apprehended. But a lot of TKEs were. Including their president. Now, if the president shows up, that's like saying that the fraternity as a whole approves of the activity. So they got fucked. I don't know where Crow's was, but he wasn't there.

The cops stopped by the Crow house later. They just said that if they'd know it was just a frat rivalry, they wouldn't have done anything. They had reports of a brawl. Heh. Well, it was. I like the policy of non-interference.

I can't wait to run into that TKE at setup for some SocComm function. I think he's MSEC. I'll be sure to work setup for all the Winter Carnival events. I'll get 'im somehow. Fuckin' A.

Yeah, so that's been my night so far. Very fun.

So I ran into Ashley again heading home after Photonics. She seemed to be heading back to Institute after working out or something. Again, no recognition. But once again, she was a second-degree contact. A guy from the novice crew team, Sergei, walked up and talked to her. I nodded to him. It's so weird how everyone's connected here.

Lacy's getting a tattoo. The Japanese character for "trust", on her wrist.

When I was born, I received a seal with my Chinese name on it. It's pretty much exactly like the picture, but those aren't my characters. They're hers. I'd put mine up, but I don't have mine in a format like that, and I uninstalled Photoshop to make room for Neverwinter Nights. Anyway, the large one on the right is the family name. The others would be "courageous hero" for me.

I always thought I'd get a big tattoo of my name on my upper arm. But now I'm thinking of that small seal [about an inch square] on the back of my hand. Maybe.

So tonight I'm relatively sober. In that at no point tonight was I not thinking. Why the sobriety? The aftermath of last Tuesday night weighs heavily on my mind. Yeah...

I played one game of beirut, lost. So that was one beer. And I'm still nursing the same Sam Adams I started the night with. Actually, I'm not really nursing it. It's nearly full, just sitting on my desk. No doubt it'll sit there for a few days until I remember it's there and get thirsty or something.

Warm, flat beer. Whatever.

Unfortunately, not being drunk means I'm not tired. And it's a Tuesday night, so I really don't want to do homework. I'll probably play some NWN. Until the sun rises or something. Then I'll sleep, wake up just in time for the LnL meeting. Miss my written projection test again. Not do any homework. Get fucked over Thursday.

Sounds like a plan.

I need a girl. Badly.

It's not about sex. It's never about sex. My fuckin' hand is good enough. I just need someone with whom to hold hands, to talk about how our days went, to discuss trivial crap with the knowledge that it's ultimately exactly that... Someone warm to nuzzle in the middle of the night... Someone to do homework with, to just glance at and think I'm not alone...

Unfortunately, I am alone. And you can hang out with the guys all night, but no matter what, eventually it always comes back to this...

All this bitching is doing me no good. But it's what's on my mind, so I might as well bleed it out onto all of you.

Now, to go lie awake in bed and embrace the empty space.

My computer says it's 2359, but my watch says it's 0000. I'm going with the former, otherwise I won't have an entry for the fourteenth. Speaking of that... I was looking at the calendar last night and thinking about my frequency of updates. When I first made the log [2001-10-28], entries were somewhat sporadic. 2001-11-16 marks the beginning of the nigh daily update. After that, I only missed one day in the month [30]. For all of December, I only missing two days [21, 27]. January? One day. February has no gaps until the site goes down on the fifteenth. March? Empty. April, May, June, July, August... sparse at first, but it's coalescing. September's close to daily entries again. Okay, not really. October wanes. But this month, no breaks. Yet. I have no point here. I was just observing.

I realize you can't see beyond March or so. I know. I'm a tease.

Went to Crow's Casino Night. Talked to other rushees. They got bids already. Okay. Only five got bids. And Frank got a bid from Sigma Pi. I kind of hope I don't get a bid. Then I wouldn't even have to think. If I do, I don't know if I'll sign. Still not sure. I'm rushing on a lark. And it's fun. But I doubt rush events are indicative of actual fraternity life. I wouldn't want to live in the frat house. And if I wasn't even living there, I'd feel bad paying dues.

Eh. I'll burn my bridges when I get to them.

Just got back from the Masque party. Watched out for some sophomore named Andrew. Watched out for everyone I could, actually. More details in the morning, when I'm not so loaded. But before I sleep... Sara Maska is hot. And almost engaged. I sure can pick 'em.

Heh. This is what I woke up to.

So what did  do last night...

Went to the Masque show, despite my hatred for theater people. Well, actors. Got in for free. Stared at the cute girls. Kirby and I comment on all the cute girls. We're so depraved. He's not as far gone as I, fortunately for him. But Sara Maska was hot. I've seen her in a bunch of plays here at campus. So hot. And there was this girl A.J. [I think it stands for Amanda Jean, but I don't really remember] who played a messenger boy. Also cute.

So I stuck around the LnL people and went to the cast party. Vickie, the party's host, mentions shortly after we arrive that there's a bottle of tequila that she needs to get rid of. But Paul says something about not being able to drink if you've got LnL keys [generally, this implies you're an officer]. But I've got Lindsay's keys 'cause I need to bench the movie. I throw them at Paul. He throws them back and says he doesn't know anything about it. Heh. I hit the tequila as the earliest opportunity, drinking straight from the bottle.

I leave with Zip around fifteen past midnight to help him strike some power cords we ran for the GDC. As we walk up the hill, the tequila starts hitting. It's great. Linday mysteriously appears for strike. Pretty sure I didn't say anything unbecoming. I did ask her about the drinking with LnL keys thing. She says she's never heard of such a thing. Cool.

After strike, Lindsay heads home and Zip and I return to the cast party. Well, after he goes back to his dorm and leaves Jake's keys on his desk. When we get back, the body shots have commenced. It's quite the show. Remember when my roommate was having loud sex in the next room a couple months ago? The girl with whom he was having sex was named Josie. Josie was in the play. And so, she was at the cast party. I made out with her at some points. Then again, I think most of the guys there could say that. At one point she kisses me and feels the need to unbutton and unzip my jeans. Which is weird. Because she doesn't do anything. And then she passes on. So I have to rezip and rebutton. Which isn't embarassing so much as hard to do when uncoordinated.

When I first arrived at the body shot... area... there was this sophomore, Andrew. So gone. So I poured him half shots when he asked and had people get him water. He started ranting about some girl at the party. Sigh. Zip and I were all set to walk him home if need be, but some other guys took care of that.

Made sure people got water who needed it. Made sure people didn't crash on their backs. Yep, I'm Mother fuckin' Theresa. Meh. I don't why, but I just felt the need to look out for all these people.

I left the party around half past three. Walked Zip to his dorm and headed back home. For some reason, everyone's been about walking in groups. Maybe there was a recent mugging or something. Eh. I'm so obviously an easy mark, and I've never been mugged in Worcester. [shrug]

Alright. I've got to go bench the movie.

Hey... damn it. No entry for the 15th. I failed.