10/29/2003 - 4:15 p.m. | i got trouble in my town

If you hit backspace in the wrong spot, it kills everything. I hate you, backspace. Oh, how I hate you.

Once I get to work, I will rewrite this entry, and you will pay. This I swear.

Phew - I was worried there for a minute. They got a new laptop here at Freer, and while it is sooooooo sooooo much faster, they put on new security measures to stop the hackers like myself (har), namely making it so the F1 key makes the computer shut down instead of going to the help file where you can pull some trickery. Luckily, they forgot about shift+F1, so I am better off than before! AHAHAHAHAHA!

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. Most importantly, the bank teller was named Brock. I didn't know anybody not in fiction actually had that name. A Brock shouldn't filling out little deposit slips and shit! He should smashing lead bars together to make gold!! Speaking of which, it's a good thing I'm not Superman because if I were, I'd just spend all my time screwing with the economy, crushing carbon into diamonds over and over again until they were completely worthless. I would be a bad superhero.

Today in group, it was only me and the cute girl. Actually, at first it was just me, which is totally unnerving. So... what do you want to talk about? Uhhhhhhhhhh... Perhaps you forget what the group is for? Anyway, I guess it loosened my lips enough to talk about how retarded I've been acting lately, and I suppose that's good. No solutions or anything, because this is psychology we're talking about (blame your parents!!), but at least I'm communicating. The girl did show up eventually, and because it was just the two of us, we were pretty much forced to talk more. I dunno - helps you realize you have more in common with people than you think. We talked about mostly useless stuff - we both exercise and eat OK, although I could never give up my carbs, so just forget that. I am curious about trying ginko biloba again because the previous results were sooo... insane. When we were leaving she even said, "Bye, Nate" to me, and for the type of people we are, that's a lot.

During guided imagery today, we were told to picture a person we wanted to know more about on a screen. My first thought was, of course, Batman. Unfortunately, I guess the exercise was supposed to be more about someone you know personally, but I didn't realize this until way too late, and then it just got tremendously funny. "Enter the screen and look all around at the person," and I'm picturing rotating around a frozen Batman with a big billowing cape with angle changes and rotations like a Burger King commercial, and it is sooo freaking odd that I can barely avoid laughing. I cry instead. "Enter the body of the person and look at yourself through their eyes..." I can't look at myself through Batman's eyes! He's the fucking Dark Knight! But, it is sort of weird to think about yourself from different camera angles, so I'm kind of working on that right now. Hmmm.

Helpful hint: Although it may be possible to ride no handed on your bike while standing up, it almost surely requires strong inner thighs. My inner thighs are not that strong. Crash. Luckily, nothing but good came of this! One, my jeans now have an artfully-designed rip in them, just like Spritz's! Two, I was really missing that wound on my right hip from the Flaming Lips concert last year! Well, worry no more! Three, some girl saw me wipe out and thinks I am a complete cretin. Agreed.

When I checked the mail today, there was a letter addressed to "Nathan Walsh, Notary Public." Nothing in the world could make me as happy. I still have to turn in some forms and buy a stamp (which, it seems I was misinformed, was NOT included in the fee I paid!!), but I am practically there! It feels good to accomplish something. Now, who needs something stamped?

Hmmm - I may have to give up the head of household position, as my funds seriously cannot handle the constant fluctuation of paying all the bills, getting very sporadic IMPE paychecks, buying worthless shit, and, you know, eating. I wouldn't want to have to go back to the factory on break, right? Yeah, no shit. A red-haired freak just came up and asked me for a nickel. No, not one like me. An actual inbred monstrosity. *shudder* He managed to make a bad impression in the whole 6 seconds I talked to him.