10/16/2003 - 1:07 a.m. | even on feminine areas!

Here's an important aside I only just now remembered: Last week, when I went to Baskin-Robbins, the same crazy guy actually got through the order correctly (no "mons" or anything!) except that he put a paper cone inside of my waffle cone so that I got a big chomp of minty paper. That asshole saboteur. I for sure know he hates me now.

Woke up, barely enough time to get to class what with the shower competition, but I made it because I am so cool. In JLit, we did not talk about the lit at all, just the J. I dunno - it was all about modern Japan and globalization and whatever else. Everyone started bashing Detroit, and it made me sad because that's my crib, you know? I know nothing about these things, so I did not feel it was right for me to discuss. The only stuff I've got from Japan is the filtered-down pop culture that made its way to the states, and that's worth jack shit pretty much. Others did not share my view. The stupid afraid-of-bees girl started talking about porn and Asian fetishes, I think, and I started yelling about how porn is the path to unity. The subject just kept coming up, too. And Druggy McI'veBeenToJapanBefore just would not shut up. The sun beat down, and it was about 20 degrees warmer in the room than it was outside.

I've decided I write better without clothes on. Or I just decided to take off my clothes. Except undies, because no one needs that mental picture hovering around.

Potato chips and chocolate milk for lunch, then back for stats. I just found out that the shocking part of You Shall Know Our Velocity! was added long after it was originally published. What a good idea! I wish I liked David Sedaris as much. Some of his satire is OK, and his stories about being a Macy's elf are cool, but he is a little too focused on his sexual orientation. Yes, it is very neat that you like boys instead of girls, but how often much anal bleeding come up? A lot, it would seem. If he lost the gimmick, I could respect him much more. We had a quiz, which makes like worth living, I suppose. Kyle called in the middle of it and offered me five bucks to run home, get his physics binder, and deliver it to him in a class. I wasn't sure I had the time, but man - five bucks. So I cooked. That alt-country, I tell ya. In retrospect, I miss staying up all night, especially at the train station. I am a boring, boring boy, aren't I?

Anxiety group took a WRONG TURN down the path of insanity today. Not our fault. The counselor just did some rather bizarre relaxation techniques today. First off, everyone says this affirmation out loud, "Even though I have this anxiety, I am a good person blah blah blah" while rubbing this energy center called the sore spot. It's about three inches down and to the left or right of the little U in your neck. So, everyone's mumbling to themselves, and I look up and all the girls are rubbing their boobs. Tee hee. Anyway, then we start this tapping. Two fingers, sort of rapid, firm, tapping, 7 times or so, each time saying, "This anxiety." Tap top of eyebrow, then corner of eyebrow, then underneath the eye, then underneath nose, then on the chin, then in the U spot, then in the side, then on the bottom of the thumbnail, index finger, middle finger, SKIP RING FINGER, pinky. Hum the first three notes of "Happy Birthday," count to five quickly, hum the notes again, start tapping over from the beginning. WHAT THE HELL. This is the most insane ritual in the whole world. I suppose it did relax me, but only because it was so crazy and complicated that it made me laugh. Open mind, Nate. Open mind. Then I got really pissed off because they started on the whole "blame it on your parents" thing, and that is just so wrong. My parents tried so hard to raise me to have good self-esteem, and it's not the least bit their fault; I'm just that type of kid, and it just makes me so, so angry. Try a new idea sometime maybe. And then we did this guided imagery at the end, and you were supposed to pick a body part to improve on, I think, and Freud would've just gone nuts with the whole thing. "Imagine it growing bigger or smaller, harder or softer, etc." PENIS. This was just a nutty one. And lots of homework, too. My legs are just beat to shit.

Some quick preparing and then off to work. A little too quick because I was really early. That's OK, I found some Wendy's "Taco Chips" lying around, so I had those and talked to George and Charlie, these insane little kids. They just love tossing shit around and asking bizarre questions. We get along fine. After they left, I ate my dinner of chocolate donuts and sunflower seeds, and I think I started pissing everyone off, so I signed off AIM. The donuts were so crumbly and gross, and I found a twig in my sunflower seeds. Seriously, just some twig. Salted and everything. I should write a letter. I eventually got around to my econ homework, which was a huge pain in the ass because the book is so poorly-written, so I had to alternate between work and screeching Old 97's at passerby while rotating. Next time I'm bringing my stereo; I don't care how much of a hassle it is. The homework got done, but I was so sick of it by that point that I wasn't up for reading or any more "brain work," so I started construction on a pair of skates made with scooters attached to my feet with jump ropes. They mostly just mashed into each other, so I honed it down to one deathboard and then just flew around my office singing and flopping my arms around. The Asians were confused. And I am a genius.

Kyle and Brytne showed up. Kyle immediately began mauling the vending machine which finally gave in and relinquished the damn Pop Tarts. As well as a Payday. And Nutty Bars. I'm going to get those damn Pop Tarts bronzed. Naysayers said it couldn't be done (which is highly redundant of them, don't you think?), but they did not count on Kyle Wild's ape-like strength. I locked up (and found a antique tampon -in box! - that has to be from the 70's) and then we did some exploring (Mystery Box with Terry Bradshaw's book in it as well as granola and an electronic poker game!) I really want to live in the little office in the coed bathroom next year. It had everything I need. Except willing roommates. I have a dream which I dare not speak. Man, the Ping Pong club's B.O. was particularly rank tonight. It had a certain... spiciness to it even (much like Clamato). I'm not sure if it was the fact that they got the auto-serve machine working or 'cause there was an actual girl there. Either way, tremendous stress.

They cleared out, and we went home. My next challenge is unicycle, I think. All of our section of Elm was blocked off by all these firetrucks and police cars. Apparently, the building on the corner of Elm and Busey caught on fire a bit, so it was pandemonium or whatever. It got straightened out pretty fast, but there was quite a spectacle. The dog was there even.

I made very, very brief attempts at conversation, decided that was pointless, and went out with Spritz to run some errands (food). Schnucks for water and then Perkins for pie (cranberry apple!) and muffins and junk. The guy sitting behind Spritz was completely insane and talked in his own gibberish language. Of course, as you all know, I seem to be an instant attraction to the psychotics (to make up for my total repulsion of the women, see?), so he started talking to me about how they were going to hire a new waiter who looks like a waiter who already works there. His personal comment, "I hope my own double is nicer than I am!!!" Uh... huh. Some "Scrubs" and this wasn't as good of an entry as I thought. Damn it. We had this discussion about what type of thoughts you have, and I was like, "Well, I'm a critic, but I'm sure I'm not a perfectionist [They are supposed to be separate things]," but then totally went ahead and proved myself wrong. Stupid traps.