02/11/2004 - 11:30 p.m. | well, i may be stupid, but at least i'm not dim

What the question comes down to is, do I make good decisions or not? I am entirely capable of making good decisions - I pretty much always know the difference between right and wrong - but how well am I gonna stick to my guns here? Should I go over to Dank's now to watch GaS? No, I really shouldn't, as I have to guard the cross tomorrow, of course, as well as the test in Sensory and Perception to contend with. Then, I have to slug through the rest of the day, AbPsych, crossing guard duty again, and then work at Freer. This should not be done on <4 hours of sleep. But, will I do it? Guess we'll see.

I swear it was terribly cold in the morning, thereby determining what I felt about the weather for the rest of the day even when it (OMG) went above freezing. So, the rudder thing on my bike hasn't sorted itself on its own (as I hoped it might), so I've developed a new system in which I turn the bike in one direction and then violently jerk it back in the other. I'm sure to the outside world it looks I am battling an alternate(!) personality for control of my life, but I swear I have things under control. The accent has been extended to Saturday.

I am learning so much about my eyes! Aren't you happy for me?! Problem is, it's getting tough to tell which factoids I need to remember for which class and so on. On the plus side, did you know that I have meridional amblyopia? That's right! Because of my astigmatism (currently being corrected!), the oblique effect doesn't work on me! I am sure you are as amazed as I am. Hateful, hateful Phonetics afterwards. Sinister Harve cannot tell us enough about how to use the file menu, but he won't mention whether or not we go to discussion yet, which only makes me assume no.

There was a hole in the period between when I got done with class and when I had to work, so I took it upon myself to clean the tub. God bless you scrubbing bubbles. You work so damn well. Of course, the fact that I was talking to them might have egged them on a bit, but that's crazy logic, isn't it? It's just majestic, though. Man, generic root beer really hits the spot.

So, some old lady started yelling at me at work about how I was standing on the wrong side of the stret or something. I tried to explain her that this was how I was trained, and she kept yelling, but by that time, I was back to oiling my bike, so fuck her. Since traffic is so low, I've started putting aside little odd tasks to work on in the meantime. You wait 'til I start whittling.

Once I got back, I finally showered (probably covering the shower in a whole new layer of scum) and then started the slow path of studying. Eyes eyes eyes. It's like the world is united against me. In eyes. Then I went out for eyes cream with Dank, and I am still hungry now, but sleep dominates currently. I wish I could have, like, three tacos, though.

It's sort of weird. I was looking at my weekend rotation schedule at IMPE, and it's like some sort of dating service. Every time I work, it's with a person, and each time it's a girl. Out of curiosity I checked a few other names to see if they had the same thing, and nope. Just me. Like I said, God plays weird little tricks. Anyway, the thing is... well, the girl I work with on Saturday... yeah, her parents just died in a car accident. Like, this week. And now I feel awful for her because how the fuck am I going to make any conversation at all? And I'll prolly keep making accidental references to unsafe subjects, and Christ - this makes me nervous. So, to try and karmaically even things out with the Waite family ('cause that's her last name, and both she and her brother work at IMPE), I decided to sub for him tonight at Huff. At the very worst, it's getting paid to actually have to sit around and study, which is more difficult here. I sit in front of the computer and type in random URLs in the hopes of a goldmine. Or I just stare. So focus is swell.

Karate kids are fags, I think. Well, at least the showy ones are. There's was the one guy doing all these flips and shit, and he was such a piece of garbage that I wished I had a little BB gun to own him with. Pow! Pow! Yeah, try kicking that, assface! Pow! Better were the crazy wooden sword people who mostly yelled as much as possible and (better yet) smacked each other in the face with their swords. They were wearing masks, so it made a satisfying THWACK each time. Meanwhile, my brain has become weak and bloated after all this time, so trying to do anything more complicated than, say, counting has become an exhausting chore. So I try to stay coherent and receptive, but it's a losing battle. And the soda machine and the amount of change I have are set up to screw me over, so I just space. Actually, a little less than spacing because one of the karate newbies was really cute. The damn hypnotic suggestions tried to kick in. "You should go talk to her and ask her for her number." Fuck you. How about that? Damn subconscious.

And I swear to God that people are intentionally retarded as I wait for them to leave. Time to fold my little outfit and say stupid, stupid things. Oh - did I forget something? Best go in and check once more. Die die die. Finally, they left, and it was just me and the Haunting. Creepy bearded zombie janitor listening to voices from the dead and the sexless beast who got two separate drinks of water in the space of a minute (Didn't think I saw, did you?), thereby convincing me that they were some sort of frog hybrid that had to keep damn to survive. I think it's a good sign I still have an imagination. I got the fuck out.

And I still haven't come to any conclusions.