Ah yes the daily log nodes...

Why must you Soy me?

For some reason when we go out for chinese food, my friends and colleagues find the need to "Soy" (applying Soy Sauce to something) my soda and soft serve ice cream. As you can imagine, scooping up a giant mound of chocolate icecream that tastes like it was made with soy sauce rather then milk isn't the most enjoyable adventure for your tastebuds.

However the most humourous incident happened not to me, but a friend. They had just gotten up to go back to the buffet, to get more General Tso's chicken, but while there I thought it would be smart to Soy their hot tea. Thanks to the already darkend color, they couldn't tell that they had just been Soy'ed.

Sitting down with a huge plate of General Tso's they start to stuff their face with spicey bits-o-chicken, however they made the mistake of acquiring a hot pepper. Needless to say, they decided to take a giant swig and down their entire cup of tea, which was now at least 75% soy.

I wish I could see that look on his face just once more, but I'm still waiting to get unbanned from the restaurant.

Yeah high school sucks.

So i'll have all the credits I need to graduate at the end of next year except electives. Because of electives it is becomming increasingly likely that i'll have to spend an extra year in highschool taking really stupid classes like Home Economics or Creative Writing. This isn't to say those classes don't have value. Just that I don't think it should keep me from graduating until i'm twenty.

The joy of being a super senior. The joy of being an assumed idiot. Okay so I need 30 credits to graduate. Last semester I got 4 which pushes me up to 15. This means I need 15 more. Adding 4 credits this semester and 8 credits next semester leaves me with 3 credits that I still need. So I need to find some way to go to Night School across town every night so I can take something like Home Economics or Creative Writing. This is more frustrating because I do not have a car. Summer school? I can take 1 credit. Furthermore it doesn't look like i'll be able to take the pre-cal credit I need to take AP Calculus. Sigh. But, if I swear off sleep for a year or so, well, anything is possible I guess.

I asked the three lit teachers i've had over the past few semesters for AP Literature recommendations, all of them agreed to give them although in the bureaucratic tangle it seems unlikely that all three will reach their destinations simply due to the law of averages. This isn't to say they're stupid or anything, just that I don't trust the school system. Government schools. I had to be removed from Photography A today so I can take Remedial Citizenship/Economics. A class that can literally be reduced into three hours. I don't really see how I could get a 97 in AP US History without knowing anything about citizenship but hey, thats the way life is. Maybe I can convince the teacher to let me teach the class. It would at least keep things intresting. I'm so sick of classes that turn into study halls. Thats not to say they don't have merit. Just not for me. I learned a lot of this remedial nonsense in the day to day course of actually living.

J. Martinson, valedictorian, School of Hard Knocks (But You never really leave, do you?)

So here is how things are shaping up. I need one more science credit, so physics is where thats at. I need to be slapped so i'm going to try to take AP Calculus (thanks to the counties sequencing system I have to take pre-cal, its just that the class isn't really offered to most people who need to make up credits in high school. I've entered the odd position of needing credits to take good classes that I can't get because nobody else needs them.)

Well here is my plan.

One handful of faith (in myself)
One dose of talent
A dash of experience (thanks, life!)
A sprinkling of luck
A wellspring of strength

And its off to Harvard.

(Oops, forgot confidence.)

I was at my friend’s birthday party yesterday. I had no choice; it was being held in my basement. There were about fourteen people there. What was so striking to me, however, is how separated everyone was from each other. There were fourteen people at the party; there were seven groups of people. Absolutely no cohesion. Everyone was separated into their own little groups much like water does in zero gravity. They would come together to greet each other, exchange pleasantries, and then look around for the person or persons that they wanted to spend the rest of the night with.

The first group was Joanie and Chachi (names have been changed to protect the innocent). They’re getting married in a year and a half because Joanie loves Chachi and Chachi loves her right back. I’ve inexplicably landed in their wedding party. I barely know them. Now I feel a responsibility to act much friendlier towards them. Its exhausting, but a necessary evil. Joanie and Chachi are in a stage in their relationship where they are deeply in love with each other. It gets very uncomfortable when they express that love to each other in public. They like to make out with each other very often; using tongues and caressing each other. Man, what the fuck, get a room!

The second group is the only other couple at the party. Millie and Billy have been going out for several months now. They seem very different. Millie, who’s birthday is the one being celebrated, is very much into clothing, makeup and other girly things. She’s currently pursuing her PhD. Billy is a guy who may have completed college or may not have. I don’t know him that well, but I don’t think that he has. He wears jeans and a t-shirt and upon first appearances, seems like a guy who’s not headed anywhere. They are different people sharing each other. From what I have heard from my friend Millie, he’s co-dependent which is perfect for Millie, she is too. They have that much in common.

Next are Laverne and Shirley. Two girls that have developed a strong friendship with each other. I have a thing for Shirley. I pursued it and I was rejected. Laverne lives in my house part time, it makes it easier for her to commute to work. I have also developed a stronger friendship with Laverne in the past several months. I spent the first half of the party quite envious of Laverne’s friendship with Shirley. Purely immature guy stuff. I sought with Shirley the type of relationship she and Laverne shared, except that I also wanted intimacy. It didn’t work out because she didn’t show interest in me. That’s an ego buster that bothered me for sometime and it prevented me from truly enjoying myself for the first half of the party. Both girls will be leaving soon (one to the west coast and one to New England) which is another bond that both now share.

There was also a group consisting of only guys. The two guys were Jay and Roach. Jay is a pothead in law school. Roach is a pothead working towards getting certified in some field in computers. All I remember being discussed between the two of them is how Jay was surprised that Roach didn’t follow sports at all. Jay felt that it made Roach less of a man. Roach isn’t much of a man so maybe Jay is right. You see, Roach had a girlfriend that treated him like shit and he took it. His girlfriend, Magilla let him off the hook earlier that day by stating that she wanted to see other people. They’re both better off. Jay is in law school and is one of those people that certainly prove that one can never judge a book by its cover. One look at him and you think he’s an overweight goomba with a future in construction. He’ll be a lawyer in about a year and a half. He worked hard for it and deserves it

The largest group at the party consisted of four people. Inigo, Magilla, Sicilian and Bitch. They were conspicuously hanging out in another room. Inigo and Magilla feel they are superior to all the others. They seek to transform others into what others are not. Inigo and Magilla have a very interesting relationship. For lack of a better word, they want to bang the shit out of each other. Yet, neither of them have the guts to go forward with it. Instead, they fawn over each other like two twelve year olds at recess. They tease each other and play with each other while in the back of their minds, dirty little thoughts invade their conscience. I don’t know Sicilian too well and I unfortunately know Bitch. She’s a stupid bitch.

The last two groups consisted of one individual each. The first group was Yag. He’s a hairy Turk with man boobs who thinks he looks good naked. I think he’s gay and doesn’t realize it yet. The day will come when he make a left instead of a right and ends up at the Blue Oyster. That will be when he discovers his new life. Yru, the author, was in the last group. I’ll refrain from making any observations about him because they may be biased and I wasn’t able to hold a mirror up to my face long enough.

All in all, a sign of the times. People in there twenties, looking for a direction in their lives. From this, I concluded that as we all collectively drive down the road of life, we all come to forks in the road. Some of us go left and some go right. As the road continues, the group gets smaller and the individual roads get further and further away from each other, until you can no longer see those people that originally joined your journey. Along the way you pick others up and some take the ride with you but most go on their own separate roads. Today, I saw a piece of everyone’s journey and I saw how far away many of us have already gotten from each other. Eventually, most of the people at that party will no longer be able to see the each other.

Today, like any other day, had me driving for two hours to pick up E. for work. He, myself and yru work at an electronics store in Brooklyn, which specializes mainly in bait and switch and questionable merchandise. Sometimes they offer a good deal, but still, I don’t shop there for my electronics needs and I think that is the ultimate test.

The ride to work was somewhat different this morning, firstly, it being just myself and E. and secondly, he and I managed a ride’s worth of sustained conversation. This hadn’t happened in a long time without the aid of some mind-altering substance. It was nice. He had secrets to share. Sure, Ok, everyone already knew or anticipated these things (much to his chagrin) but it felt good to be confided in again, after so long.

There was a party last night for Ann’s birthday. There were the people I’d known for years and years, gathered in the Love Grotto, for one of the last parties that may be held before I move and maybe I never see them again. And, for the most part, I didn’t really care. As I looked around at the different groups, and the bowl being passed and the latecomers and the seldom-seens, I felt nothing outside of the general pleasant glow that accompanies gatherings of any kind. But there was no cohesion like there once was.

We were all sitting in the same basement, sharing drinks from the same bottles and tokes from the same pipes, but there was distinct and recognizable separation in the conversations. It bordered on a miniaturized representation of a high school. There were the stoners, sticking close to the pipes and thus each other. There was me and Courtney, reading the sex books that Ann received, and we were laughing, because charcoal pictures of people having oral sex ARE funny. On the other hand, the more girly of the ladies were perusing the books quite seriously, with no smiles, just concentration. Some of the men jabbered about sporting events. There was the couple who are engaged and the couple in the euphoria of comfortable love, and the couple who had broken up that day.

yru was the loner. He popped in and out, flitted from group to group. He moved between people in a very easy way that I envied. I‘ve never asked if it might be lonelier that way. At least he could make small talk with everyone. I could do no more than greet the others with noncommittal hellos. This is my failing. As others changed, I failed to adapt to their needs, and whatever rift that exists between myself and others is just as much my fault. But, like I said, it doesn’t bother me enough to upset me.

I watched these people, the people I’d shared some of the most intimate experiences of my life with, watched them separate once again. When I met them, we were all outcasts, all different, and so we were the same. We had, as a group, isolated ourselves from other people, segregated ourselves as a protective unit and now we were doing it again, but amongst ourselves.

Before, in the times when everyone was still a student, and we all had infinite hope in front of us, we were all best friends, and no one veiled much of themselves. What would the point have been to hide things when it was so much fun to share? Privacy was something used to guard against prying family, against professors. Things only changed when some graduated and some moved on to graduate school and some made huge life changing decisions. Peoples’ paces changed. Some move forward, some move sideways. Still others aren’t moving at all because they don’t know where to go from here.

My father always told me that you never keep most of your college friends, and I always denied it, thinking I’d be the exception to his rule. But, as I sit back and watch with uncaring eyes the people who I once might have thrown myself in front of a moving truck to protect, and the people who I still love, but can’t understand, I wonder that he was right. I’ll keep some, but most will go to the discard pile, and I will go into theirs.

...so I sit here and read..read..read.. I don't create, I havn't started what I promised. But now I think it's time to begin...

Five years ago I almost went to university to study art, love and fear got in the way. Well I've finally decided to go back to the only occupation that has held my thoughts. By the end of March I must produce a portfolio suitable for uni interviews, this needs to contain evidence showing a long period of study. I have known this since September, yet created minimal work, do I always have to do things the hard way?

I find it hard to motivate myself without competion/peers, so I shall node the work that I task myself with and whether I complete it or not. I intend to complete one portfolio piece a week.

My task for tomorrow:

i may as well node a few other things whilst i'm here...

Dad Diary, entry 3(?)

I felt it move yesterday or the day before. I'm changing over to night shift and it's a little hard to recall what day is what.

But, I felt it move. Eerie, you know. Like, the first time you hear it's heart, part of you doesn't believe it because it's through a machine. The ultrasound is a little harder to ignore, but entirely possible, especially when it blocks the view of the genitals.

Why is the gender a big deal? I don't know. Time to buy appropriate laytex paint, I suppose.

But feeling it, even the gentle little nudge that could have been anything from mom's gas to a random twitch muscles have sometimes.

The little fucker is alive in there. Another human being, and I can feel it moving now.

It's a little different for me than when a friend was pregnant, she was kind of thin, and so you could see, like, feet sticking out and nearly fully tracable in the toe-ball-heel major kind of resolution.

But this is my offspring, even though I am choiceless about bringing it into the world and the interesting times in which we now live, and for some reason I feel endless hope about this hopeless situation.

There's something beautiful about someone throwing themselves against a brick wall.

End Dad Diary

Ended my job at Belvidere National Bank, started a new job at LifeTouch Publishing doing Page Assembly on old beige PowerMac G3s in Loves Park, IL. We make yearbooks for Grade School, Middle School, and High Schools. Part of the first day is involved in looking at the funny names of all the kids.

Related to Dad Diary. I kept wondering if I'd stumble across something I liked.

Came home, made 2 4 chesse pizza Hot Pockets. Tryed to get mom in bed, but because the bed "sags" in the middle, it makes her back hurt.

I kind of wanted a Cajon Chicken Bread Bowl Salad with French dressing from the 24-hour Perkins, but it was closed for cleaning season.

Officially decided I didn't have the time to give my e2 mentoree exactly what he/she needed, because of my life and lack thereof.

Whatever. It's time for bed now. It's been real.

Today, suddenly, it's 10 degrees colder than yesterday, and my knuckles were numb when I parked my bike in front of work. The sky is a very demanding blue. I say demanding because it divides us into two worlds - the underworld full of stone buildings full of office workers full of coffee, and the overworld of space, full of birds at first, then ozone, then nothing, then stars. It reminds you how limited your perspective is. It's demanding because it forces you to acknowledge that there's a well of emptiness right above your head, and it has a colour. The colour is the most disturbing part. Anyone can understand a black void, but a blue void is a weird and unreasonable concept.

When I do Yoga outside in the park in the summer, when I go into a headstand, I like to imagine that it's not me that's upside-down, but the world. I got the idea from Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac. I imagine that we are all on the underside of a sphere hanging in - no, hurtling through - space. I imagine that we are all stuck on the bottom of the sphere by some strange force. We say that we are looking up into the sky, but that's just to make ourselves feel better, because really we are looking down into the void. Gazing into the abyss. I don't find this depressing. In fact, once it made me giggle so much I fell out of my headstand and nearly broke my neck. Everyone was beetling along minding their own business, pointedly ignoring the blue abyss. It was like a scene out of The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

There's a man across the road in a long duffle coat and suit, standing in front of an office building, talking on a cellular phone held between his chin and his shoulder, tapping on his palm pilot. Maybe because the palm pilot screen is blue and unreflective he doesn't notice how blue the sky is, or the danger he's in - at any moment he could fall off the planet and go careening into the blue, scarf fluttering madly, and no one would say anything. It might be like Toy Story - The Claw! The Claw! He has been chosen!.

The sky is demanding. That would liven up my day.

I've been psychoanalysing my friend Claire based on the fact that since watching Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarves last week, she's been having frightening nightmares. She texted me on Sunday lunchtime to tell me this, so it must be preying on her mind. Either that, or she was trying to freak me out.

I'm studying Bruno Bettelheim's The Uses of Enchantment (excellent book, buy it now) about the important role fairy tales play in children's development, and I've been trying to find the significant features of Snow White and see how they might relate to Claire.

Well, obviously, the story is a classic tale of Oedipal relations, how the mother (wicked stepmother and mother are pretty equivalent; stepmother is used to represent the evil side of the mother and of adults in general) the mother is jealous of the daughter's good looks and blossoming sexual maturity, and tries to have her killed or kill her. Apparently one interesting fact about the story is that it presents the mother's point of view much more than most stories.

The other side of the tale is how Snow White is able to escape the family, and in particular the competition with her mother for her father's love, and transfer this love from her father so she can relate to new male figures: firstly the dwarves who're nice to her but not very fuckable, and then the handsome prince who rescues her and carries her off into adult life, sexual bliss and castles.

Not having finished the book or undertaken years of training into psychology and psychoanalysis, my conclusions cannot be certain, but I deduce that Claire (1) needs to to tell her mother to fuck off and mind her own business, and (2) needs a boyfriend. That is so profound.


Once again Jen proves herself wonderful, by actually replying to a questionnaire I sent her. I've learnt that her favourite animals are fish; her ideal man is like this: "Confidence, if they are interesting and exciting, tall, well built not too skinny, not stupid, fun". I guess I'm not stupid, but I'm screwed on the rest (or, ahem, not getting screwed). Oh well, not that I really fancy her. She also once cheated on a boyfriend, but regrets it; but I knew that; the whole of West Edinburgh knew that. And she lied about her grade in French to get a job, but decided she didn't want the job. Oh, I have the power.

So I sent it to Claire, who only ever answers questionnaires if every question is about oboes. She plays the oboe, occasionally at work I believe, but only when she thinks everyone has gone home. I'm still waiting. Jen told me she last had sex 2 or 3 months ago; the figure for Claire would be interesting, except I know she wouldn't say, because it would either reveal her to be an asexual churchgoing virgin or a naughty person. Not that I would tell my time either; I can't count that high or remember that far back; in any case it depends what you mean by sex.

One last point is intriguing, though: Jen associates purple with sexual frustration, but says it's one of her favourite colours. So does this mean if she's wearing purple she's dying for a fuck?

Hard to move on
By Bluebird
1/15/02

Sometimes we can’t just forget.
Sometimes we can’t just give up.
Sometimes it hurts too much.
Sometimes we just don’t want it to end.
Sometimes it’s just too hard to move on.

Why do I have to give up?
Why do I have to leave them?
Why do I feel like this?
Why can’t it all be like it was?
Why is it so hard to move on?

How do i leave all that was there?
How do I just say goodbye?
How do I make myself stop missing it?
How does this help things?
How come it’s so hard to move on?

When will the hurting stop?
When will I begin to forget?
When does the pain end?
When will I feel good again?
When won’t it be so hard to move on?

Where am I to go now?
Where am I to cry?
Where am I to laugh?
Where did all the fun go?
Where from is it hard to move on?

It's my little brother's birthday. I am selfish and thinking of my own problems instead of how to share his 11th birthday with him. I wish this life would end soon.


Please stop downvoting this, it's just a daylog. Use your votes to get rid of non daylog nodes that add nothing to the database, if you want a list /msg me and I'll help you find lots of w/u's that deserve votes either way.

What are my ambitions? Well, I don’t really have any. Which might be the problem. I have plans, options… let’s see

  1. Stay in Tel Aviv for another year, in the same apartment. The landlord is beginning to grow on me, and even though he talks quite a lot when he get’s going, telling me about how he formed “Sayeret Matkal” and such, He is a sweet old man who wants to teach me about electricity and plumbing and useful stuff that I would actually quiet like to learn, but I’m too lazy and he talks way too much to teach me

  2. Go travel again! I came back home from South America way too soon, I didn’t see half of what I planned and there is so much more to see. Then again, an army friend of mine just got back from India and she is poisoning my mind with it. A client of mine was telling me about Laos and Vietnam the other day and it seems everyone is talking about Australia lately. (Note: The started selling Tim Tams in Israel a couple months ago)

  3. Travel?! No WAY! I am opening a Pizza Pub with a good friend of mine! You hear me, a nice neighborhood pub that serves some pizza. I don’t know how popular this idea is around the world, but I was in one or two in Peru and I like the idea! It’ll be great!!

  4. School, I quit school when I was 15. Actually they told me to stay home as I sort of stopped showing up regularly in the 7th grade, and no one really did anything about it. It doesn’t bother me, but I really feel like studying something and there is this cool place in San Diego called “The Art Institute of California” which is a sort of Advertising and Graphic Design. It sounds cool and I like creative stuff. I don’t know if it’d like living in the States, it’s so damn unhealthy.

  5. - INSERT YOUR IDEA HERE -


    In other news, today I played Zork for a couple hours, I forgot how much text adventures can rock! I sat around doing nothing almost all day, aside from going to a client and Ghosting his old machine to his new box. I came home depressed, I called a friend, just hearing her voice made me feel good again, So good I ate some Turkish Yogurt (I am allergic to dairy, I guess this was some kind of “Fearless” effect… I puked my guts out…. Now I feel better, drinking almond tea with no sugar. Wow, this has been long….

    Did I mention she is sick, and I bought her the nicest flowers last night, 5 Tulips, 3 purple open and 2 yellow still closed. Well when I called her she told me how everyone has been complimenting them…. DAMN, I rock!

    Is that enough for you Milez?

My boyfriend dumped me from Honduras, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.

Lying in bed early this morning, I tapped into my Random Thought Process Theater and found that it was playing reruns of David. Specifically, reruns of the morning two months ago when my phone rang at work, and David calmly, happily, told me how relieved he was that he'd found the woman he believed he was meant to marry - and her name was Carla. (My name is not Carla.) Aside from the deep, almost hysterical, hilarity in being dumped by telephone (did I mention I was at work?) by a man in Honduras, I think this would be the most forgettable dumping of my dating career.

What? Did I not care about him? Am I so hardened and embittered by the dating world? No, and no. I was sitting there stunned in my office chair, feeling the phone against my ear and jaw and wondering what happened to the rest of my body when I had a salvific epiphany: this man was a fool. This man was a fool and he was no kind of man that I wanted in my life. Any man who could so self-centeredly perform the sort of antics I was witnessing was not the man who deserved to have me in his life.

I dropped the curtain on the theater and rolled out of bed, thinking that it was the first time I can remember being grateful for a poorly executed breakup. I reached into the closet and, after a thoughtful moment, pulled out David's old Capital City Fire and Rescue t-shirt that he'd given me. It is a spectacularly cool t-shirt, but I hadn't worn it for two months. For the first week I was wavering between burning it or ceremoniously cleaning my toilet with it, a la "Singles", but I have now decided that not only do I like the t-shirt more than I dislike the man, I don't even dislike the man any more. It's a beautiful day.

A sunny day in South Wales! These be rare, golden days...

A Rose Between Two Thorns

    Laughing
          ridiculously at un-
                seen images

Privy only to her self
        And God,
                maybe.

    I am sorry that I let you in thisclose.
I never meant to hurt you.

I knew that from afar, it seemed safe,
Even worth the pain.

But alas,
    I miss-
              Led you
.
I know
It does not help to hear
That I always have the best of intentions.

Besides,
That is not entirely true,
So I won't bother you with
          My lyes.

I thought I was chosen
A necessary hybrid
Created specially for

Inspiration

Hope

Love

Joy

              Perhaps,
There is more here
Than just

what meets the eie

so, i'm sitting at werk, having had about an hour of sleep (while here!), thanks to slide, apatrix, and other random people who stay up way the hell too late. i did wild and silly things last night, including putting res novae on my homenode. yes, folks, new things...enjoy. i intend to write more, after i get out of my next soulcrushing class, so don't downvote me 'til tomorrow, okay?

Current Playlist includes tracks by:


mmmm....i have finally had a nice two hour nap, some noodles, and half a glass of shiraz. i feel so much more alive now. i must remember to bring zip disks to werk tomorrow, as i have another gig or so of music to cart home. damn, i love that t-1.

so, yes, class was, in fact, just as soul crushing as i had suspected. kendrick is a bastard, but, i suspect, a very educational bastard, so i will not drop the class. everyone should have their souls crushed at least once a week while at university.

i am still completely off my gourd with sleep deprivation, but now i can't sleep. c'est la vie. i suspect i will now go node snowpony.

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