04/01/2003 - 3:26 a.m. | holla holla

Hi. It's 3:30. Hmm. This is called self-handicapping. You stay up late the night before you've got a lot to do - e.g. entomology test to study for, another Taylor series assignment, work at Kenney, bigass social psych chapter about prejudice to read, etc. - so that you have an excuse for fucking up. A stupid excuse. Really, of all the things I dislike about myself... needing to sleep tops the list. So much time is wasted. Maybe if I was up more I could have the time to fix myself. Alone time. I was doing so well today, but I never let me fool myself I was well. I got strange and started freaking out around 1. So, it's not a... thing. OK, OK - I really, really like Old 97's. A lot. I've been listening to the album on repeat. This is how country should be. I have to make goatse cookies for Kyle this weekend. Make them alone. Because my life is so easy. Bleh, so stupid and whiny. Tonight, I dedustified the apartment. I vaccuumed and dusted pretty much everything. I even opened up the intake vent and cleaned it. It took about 4 hours. I also watched True Lies with Dank. I hope it hopes everyone else because now I'm stuffy and sneezy like a man. I could stand to be a nicer guy. All the time, I mean. Yeah. I'm down in the dumps. Down on myself as a person. It's stupid. You don't think I know that? I want this to be over with. And I'd like to be liked. I'm never speaking up again - hehe. I googled "shit" for images. Good stuff. I also drew an angry shitpile. Michelle called it "cute." You can call me Al. Yeah, I guess I should just crawl into bed. But then I won't wanna crawl out. SAD AND ALLLOOOOONE BOO HOO HOO Bill tried to fire me from the stick-it page because I wouldn't invest a bazillion hours of my time trying to make the bottom white space smaller (which I tried way back when). He can find a professional, but I doubt they'll accept Parappa hats as payment. Wow, this album is just so good. I wish I could share it with you. And my enjoyment of it. Sometimes, Nate, you're just ridiculous. Quit trying so hard. Random does not equal deep. No, it equals tired. I'm sorry I piss everyone off... Bleh - what's wrong with me? I'm sitting here and freaking out for no reason - EXCEPT I'LL DIE ALONE. "You don't know that," say the reasonable part. But the emotional, chemically-imbalanced part of me cares not for logic or reason. This is my constant story. I just want to stop. I'm too much of an annoyance. No more Nate. That's what it feels like. I almost wish I could have someone around that was just always sticking up for me. But that just keeps the cycles in motion. They have to be stopped. Such stupid thoughts. Hm.