05/04/2004 - 1:28 a.m. | I'm quietly judging you.

Don't worry, friend; even though I haven't been around for long enough to actually bang out an entry, you've never been far from my mind. You never are. <3 I know I promise this every time (in much the same tone of voice as Kyle and Shelly might promise to go to every class next semester), but since there are technically three days I plan on covering here, I am going to try and be nice and concise.

Saturday I went home, and not with a very early start, mind you. By the time I did get myself all cleaned up and awake and out the door, it was already past 1:30, and then I had to stop because of paranoid suspicions that my tire had gone flat again. Better get some really, really stale jelly beans and 25 cent Doritos Brand Cheese and Crackers, says I. See! These are the types of details you don't need. But, he further assumes, these very details are why you all love me so damn much. The drive wasn't so bad. It drizzled, but I sang and followed this bizarre convoy of cars from Florida. I waved every time I caught up with them. I might assume that they hated me, but I would've been the one screwed over if a cop came along, so they waved back.

It had not really been my intention to go back this weekend. I was planning on doing the whole Mother's Day shabaz (I know, Hallmark holiday, blah blah blah... it has its uses), but Mom used the tricky sort of guilt ("Your dad wants you to come home!"), and Andrea wasn't gonna be around, so I relented. We talked and junk - and not in the serious manner that you might be expecting. Perhaps the issue is resolved with them, too, then, for which I would be most thankful. Mom said I had the annoying habit of staring mostly at Dad whenever I was talking to them. She says Dad does the same thing, except he pretty much gives eye contact to any male in the group. Macho thing, etc. I don't feel like I do this with anybody else, but keep an eye for it if you could, would you? I don't need to go offending the pope (er - the female pope) or something with my lazy eye.

There really wasn't too much time to do a lot else. We went to Value City (!!!) so's we could try on the funny hats and coats and laugh and laugh like ninnies. Us WALSHES are easily entertained. I bought a few secondhand American Eagle random angst shirts ("KING OF NOTHING" - *pink*)because then people will know what a hipster I am. Then we went to meet Tina and her new boyfriend. Man, I totally had him all pieced together for a minute there. Like... Hank Azaria's looks with... someone's voice (damn it) and my Uncle Larry's personality/career (related?). Not a bad guy seemingly, but had any bigot garbage come out, I would have been liable to start a fight. One thing I would never look forward to in a marriage would be situations like these. Like I said, the pairing obvious goes guys and girls with me as a little floater, but then leaves Dad with having to try and make conversation with this new person, and ick. Don't envy that job. Man, my chicken picatta was crap. "Well, let's fly in the face of convention and put this nasty ass cheese bread layer on there!" Yes, thank you. Really outshone yourselves, shithouse. After some drinks (none for me) and some worries from mom, I headed out with much more wine, asparagus, and lower-tier Easter chocolate than I had when I came.

Yeah, I got a fucking speeding ticket. 71 in a 55, which is a bunch of jive, as I shall relate. I guess the positive side is that I can get out of it with supervision. Only problem is I have to go up to the Morris courthouse for that - and then do I have to take the class up there, too? That would sort of suck, but it would still be a lot cheaper than $75, and I'll be done with school by then, which I bet they do not count on. I think I have a lot more time on my hands than the state of Illinois. In fact, forget this whole "guilty" thing. I want my trial by jury, bitches! I figure that it would at least cost the state more than $75 for the cost of a trial, so yeaaaah! Get hosed, as Kyle would say. And I think I could argue my case pretty well. Get some suspenders and tug on them. "Now, I may not be a big city lawyer, but..." Well, see how this flies, all right? Admittedly, I was speeding, but that's 'cause I had just passed a car (You're allowed to speed for that, right?), and I was in the process of slowing down, but ever since my dad told me about the car potentially puking out its transmission if I'm not careful, I've tried to be a little more cautious with my decelerations. So, yeah - while I might have been speeding when I went by Mr. Cop Car, I checked my speed when I first saw the sirens, and it was totally only 60. I know, still not legal, but also not deserving of a $75 ticket, I should think. Victimless crime and all that. Defense rests.... bitches (again).

See, look. Already done with Saturday. I won't share the other travesty I faced because that one is too harsh to be put down in the written word. Just imagine a big shocked frowny face, and you'll have it about right.

Sunday was totally gonna be happy fun study day, but we all know those odds, right? Actually, I didn't do toooo bad of a job. I made my little sheep brain charts and organized my notes and started going through them. It's just that I also stopped to watch a couple of movies (and some Disney Channel) and got food and played that ninja game and danced to whatever song my playlist came up with. Yes, even "Aaron's Party (Come Get It!)" Not too terrible of a day. And then came Bingo. Well, actually I didn't really think that was too terrible either, but I may be the only one, and I am not an unbiased source here. I am belligerent. Bad idea was turning the ninja game into a drinking one. "Oh no, I died again." chugchugchug. 3 big glasses of box wine later, and I am super spanky. Off to the barsssssssslur. OK, maybe not that bad, but it does enhance my loudness. And people hate my loudness, it seems. We are not a society of honest people, I guess, so it is not right for me to yell at Heroin Chic girl that I am secretly in love with her.

In fact, somewhere along there in the evening, after I regrettably missed possibly my last chance to talk to her (and maybe by some miracle get her phone number.... Scratch that, because that is worthless. A date! Get a date!), I started forming some sort of crazy scheme to get ahold of the Bingo guy Tony (because he works for the Planet) and ask him who she is and if maybe he could pass on a picture or something.... but no. Terrible idea. "But Nate," they say. "You have a girlfriend!" Wait, I do? I don't think I'm quite ready to call a rose a rose yet, if you get my drift. I know, I've had forever to heal, but I am slow like that, and it is still much easier to just say that we are dating. And this could be rationalizing, but it feels more like we are just dating, too. This isn't like an old school relationship where we hang around always together all the time. We go out now and then, and we are moving pretty slow, and I am pleased with how things are going, but I can still love Heroin Chic girl too, right? And Sarah Lucas. Let's not forget her. God damn crazy bitch sitting around in her apartment in just a black bra with the windows open. I tell you, if I were a lesser man... there would be more stories to tell.

Anyway, I've also been told I was a little irrational last night. And what is the opposite of being rational? That's right, being emotional. Being emo, to use the phrase I use so readily on so many others. But, for once, I do sort of understand the stupid, drunken logic of these many others. I have gained insight. Michelle kept trying to tell me to quiet down because she didn't want me to get kicked out. So she said, thinks the leftover memories of last night. Yeah, she says that, but really she just doesn't just want to have to take my ass home because she loves her stupid bingo and its fucking one dollar prizes more than she cares about her friends. God yes, emo. And, it adds, it's not like they've ever been ridiculously drunk, falling over and hugging everybody and running off into the night and screaming and shit. No. Nate certainly shouldn't be allowed to sing and yell stuff at people, which he pretty much does sober anyway. So yes, I was wrong and possibly a jerk, so I'm s- s- sor--- Yeah, funny how of all the Fonzie attributes I could inherit from my dad, I get the one stupid one - extreme difficulties in apologizing when I really did mess something up. I'm sorry, though, OK?

Spritz was ready to go, and I had bad feelings if I stuck around, so I went out with him. I guess I missed Tony getting too drunk to call and Touchdown taking over for him (ineptly) and the new bingo guy for next year, but that's the price I pay. It was pretty chilly on the walk home, so I made the brilliant decision to jog in place next to him the whole time so as to keep warm. I was wondering why my legs were so insanely sore on this morning's ride to guard the cross. Another super cool move: After we got home, and I crashed or something, Spritz gave me a bottle of water, which I placed next to me on my pillow. Then, as far as I can remember, at like 3 or 4, I woke up and gave the bottle a swift punch, spilling it and forming a huge puddle over 2/3 of the bed. Only slightly perturbed by this (and not at all with whatever logic had planned this course of action), I stripped off all my clothes, rolled over to the one dry corner, and assumed the fetal position with my legs hanging only slightly off the bed. Nate Walsh is a fighter. Or "yousucknatewalsh," depending on who you ask.

As I was telling Andrea, I had to hold off on studying until it truly was the last minute. Otherwise, it's just a figure of speech, and that phrase itself doesn't make any damn sense. So, I sat around reading back issues of my new favorite local publication: The UI Booze News. Nothing like page after page dedicated to KAMS and anal sex and banana rum to make you really proud to be at this place. Out to lunch and some bad car shows (with even worse puns about dogs because the motor they were making was called the Big Dawg or something... "TIME TO SEE IF THIS DOG'S BITE IS AS BAD AS ITS BARK YEAAAH!"), and then I was finally about ready to get cracking... while talking on AIM. Still, I was pretty confident in my little drawings and stuff by the time I got to class. Too bad they use actual, physical little sheep brains and not my drawings then, isn't it? What had been clearly differentiated on my drawings became two pins on a uniform blob of gray, apparently different structures. I got a B, which I keep telling myself isn't bad, but years of grade school self-pressure and dating Lisa Yung still make me think otherwise.

So, for a while there this afternoon, with pretty much all of the kind of bad things listed above on my mind, I was a little down. Just seemed like so many little things were just slightly off that it would be daunting to fix them all. But, this same thing happened not too long ago, I think, and I found the best thing to do was to try and get proactive. By which I mean listen to Hootie and the Blowfish in the shower. Their powerful messages of racial tolerance and love sent my spirits soaring to new heights. Wow, I just came back from doing something else and reread that. I was so scared I was writing a college ap or something. Oh, but wait... I'm not a sell-out. Hahaha - eat it, suckers! You can't handle the sauce I'm flingin'!!

OK, real fast now! Out with Shelly to cash some of her checks and deposit some of mine. Amazing what having 3 jobs will do to your finances. I have almost $800 in the one account; I always assumed it was around 200 for whatever reason. I finally, FINALLY returned the VHS I rented way back when Justin was around. Now, must never return to Rentertainment again. Out for Thai, in for High Fidelity (sigh), out for Buckle meeting. Oops, Buckle meeting was non-existent, but don't I have the sly cover story. "Uhhh... I just came in to... check my hours." Run. Although still never easy for me, I called Andrea and asked if she wanted bubble tea (I swear I sound like a moron). I have the roughest idling car in the world. It shudders like me at the sight of the uggos. And there are so, so many uggos. Anyway, we got our bubble tea, and Andrea got about a billion phone calls because she apparently lied about not being popular. Some friends of hers from ISU just all of a sudden popped up and came to Evo, so we stood outside and hung out for a while. They seemed very nice, and it's good to know what it's like to be on the other end of the inside joke. Sorry? They kept comparing me (in both appearance and attitude) to this guy Josh they all know. Super. Another clone to investigate. How many levels below me is he? Or, God forbid, what if I am his?! Shit. Now I'm all worried. I kept attempting to hold the door for all the people streaming in and out of Evo. I would seriously love being a doorman, but somehow I feel my family would be disappointed at my career choice. As they no doubt are with so many other things I have done with myself. Remember when I had bangs? Man, even I'm disappointed in that one. Anyway, after they all had to leave, I drove Andrea to some poker thing she got invited to. She said I should come in, but I was most definitely not invited any of the multiple times she mentioned me (Her "friend" - ha! See?), and I am still not one of those, so I'll just spend my hours writing this for you, OK? Okay.

Meanwhile, Nate versus His Brain: I'm like, "Hey, I'm not so bad!" And it's like, "Fuck you, no more endorphins!"