11/02/2004 - 1:43 a.m. | cryptic references to a white elephant

1) Where is everyone? I am hungry. I am hungry and while I can do a lot of lot of things alone, eating is one of them I prefer to not do. I would like a) some Chinese food or b) some sort of pasta in red sauce with a lot of shitty green can Kraft parmesean. But we shall continue to wait and instead write some things that need to be written. I don't mean to be neglecting you, diary, family, friends, whomever, but... I've changed. Which is weird because I never used to be able to do that. Once an anxious depressive, always a etc.... But now, that seems to be mostly fixed up, and it's like I decided I missed having little psychological quirks, leading to earlier confrontations with my parents. You've changed, they say. This is correct. You seem more selfish, less caring. This might also be true, sadly. Um, the morbid detached motherfucker I always dreamed of being? Yeah, maybe I finally did something I planned on. And I guess I worry - or feel like I should worry - because I know this is or could be upsetting to so many others - but I am also sort of proud of myself for becoming so detached. And I know! That's really scary! I shouldn't want that at all, especially this early in my life. And if we consult our old psychology 101, we could come to some sort of basic conclusion that due to some, uh, recent events (e.g. grandfather dying, repressed) that I am sort of unwilling to care about anyone or let anyone care about me because, uh, it just ends up hurting everyone in the end. The longer you care about someone, the more it will hurt when they leave you or get sick of you or whatever else, and I guess maybe I got fucked up on some things that I thought hadn't bothered me so much (maybe, maybe not), and now I'd rather feel safely alone than risk the potential pain of letting anyone get close. And how sad, they all say. Maybe maybe maybe, but it feels nice to keep things shallow sometimes. And I'm even more afraid because now fuck I am letting someone new in, and I shouldn't put all this hope on her, and I don't even know if she knows what I'm talking about when I try to explain this insanity. It's like, "OK, Missy, see, if I'm mean to your face, that means I really care about you. If I just act nice or whatever, I'm pretty much indifferent at best. And I'm in actuality probably making fun of you behind your back. So it's not that I don't think all these nice, great things about you. I just feel absolutely idiotic and trite and awful telling them to you." And that sucks because they'd probably make you feel good if I told them to you - they certainly would if someone told them to me - but I'm just not as comfortable putting myself out there like I used to. And let's not even get started on the psychosexual kinks in my system! There is an icy vein of cold terror running underneath everything I do, as far as I can tell.

So how about past events!?! These just stretch back further and further, and seem less interesting the more I try and drag them up. Uhhhh... We saw Shaun of the Dead last week(s). Actually, had a fairly horrid infinite shrimp feast at Red Lobster first, then the movie, which was about everything I could've hoped for. Especially for zombie nerds, who kept wanting to whisper what they were referencing here and there in Kyle's ear, but we thought he might punch us ("That is the music from the original Dawn of the Dead; that is how the zombies were first supposed to have come alive! I am acne-riddled and horrible!") But honestly, it was so funny and faithful and perfect that I feel like any need there might have been for me to write a zombie movie has now been removed. I could have done a fair job, I think, and would have played an extra (Sort of want to play an extra as it is, was lurching around the candy store the other day, doing it, smearing sour goo on my face, oh the wounds!) Lisa and I hung out for the first time in ages, joined presently by Matt and KC. Things seemed to go along fairly well until I too curtly refuted her efforts to come over and watch "The Apprentice." Such a dick, Nathan Walsh. I feel sort of itchy and horrible. Um, walking to the deposit at the mall the other night, left at the same time as some Buckle people. It's so strange, I didn't recognize any of them. No Shawn, Heather, or Danee. There's no one left. It feels poetic or something, but clearly, I am wrong.

A poem: "The truth that you'll discover / I'm sorry I'm such an inept lover."

Perhaps from my morbid fascination with dying alone and the fact that I never forsee myself being perfectly happy, that most institutions (e.g. school) are at best necessary evils, that blah blah blah whatever else, that maybe I am sort of going downhill. I refuse to believe this and offer several arguments in my favor! I have become quite an excellent parallel parker, even with my huge stupid station wagon. Had you seen me earlier on in the year, you would appreciate the fullness of this accomplishment. I am sometimes a drunken movie badass. I really should be filmed for some little things, like at the bar last weekend. This pack of cigarettes was sitting, unopened on the bar, while I was waiting for my whatever. So I just open it, grab one, light it, walk off, puff on it twice before realizing that I still hate smoking (See, above all I lack an addictive personality!), and putting it out in some empty glass as I walk by. I am just too cool. Also, despite my misgivings, I am trying out a relationship, letting a person in because I know it is good for me, that it does actually make me loads happier, that this is my best shot at any sort semblence of normality, whatever. But the whole monogamy thing is weird and different again. I mean, not so much that I miss hooking up with strangers, because I never did, but all the weird time things... phone calls and such. People still do that stuff? And she's wayyyy too good for me, fellas. I feel like such a shithead. She sends me little e-mails and letters and stuff, and I can't even keep up. Does the fact that I kno I'm going to hell mean I have any better shot at maybe not sometime? I want to make her happy, but I remain scared. Um - I don't really like school, but I so picked the right field and doing exceedingly well in it (as I do) makes me feel like I'm on the right path. It's good to feel like there is a natural gift again. I forgot what that was like. The group I am in always does the best, I just naturally come up with the superior ideas in the least amount of time, everything seems to just flow right off me in little puddles of perfection. And the focused creativity of advertising is just what I was looking for. I just hope that I am not once again setting myself up for failure. Should I fuck psychology, fuck everything, everyone and try and get out of here a lot sooner. It seems sort of a good idea (fewer loans, whatever else), but how many other opportunities am I going to have? And the idea of the real world still scares the crap out of me. I have it too easy here. No one can put pressure on me. And pretty much my only picture of the world of creative advertising is that of "Full House," uncles Joey and Jesse selling fakey products and doing wacky shit with puppets. That's probably spot on.

What do I have to say about the four or so days that Missy was here? I wish she still was, mostly, I guess. We didn't do all that much of anything, but I guess that's what I like the best. We're already past the stage where we need excuses to be together. Unfortunately, my only stupid life keeps getting in the way, so Missy had to spend a lot of time with me at my crap jobs if she wanted to be around me at all. The fact that she did, though, I dunno, man. She's too good for me. It makes me nervous. We're done to just the two jobs, incidentally. Pretty much a mutual decision over at the old Hot Topic. As the holidays approach and the hours getting crazier and crazier (Open at 7? Close at 11?), I was just going to keep screwing someone over, and it was going to be them more and more. I can't say I won't miss them, though, and it makes me intensely uncomfortable when I see one of them around and they act like they don't even know me. Missy left a card on my windshield in the mall parking lot the day she left; I assumed it was a death threat from them. She was just soooo accomodating, though. I wish it had been a better weekend, where we could just lie about or whatever, though. I mean, Christ, she drove 8 hours and fucking baked cupcakes for the occasion.

As for the big Halloween weekend, well, sort of a disappointment, really. We only sort of made it out on one night, and by out, I mean to the front of ISR, where Mis and I collapsed on the grass to giggle and "sleep under the moon." Then she threw up like 7 times. Not that I was in much better of a state. I guess I should have known trouble was brewing when the Grim Reaper joined our group. "That's not normal," I thought. "And he doesn't seem to be disappearing." Saturday night we were all set to go out to parties, me all robot'd up and everything, Kyle and Spritz trying to light me on fire, but the buses took too long, and we wandered inside to to watch Smacko drunkenly spell out swear words to Alex in SNES "Jeopardy." Oh - and Missy and I saw The Grudge, all sorts of mediocre there. Usually shit jumping out at you is the background scariness, not the main idea. As always, needs more Ted Raimi. And then Halloween itself was the most depressing I can recall, first because Missy left and then because I was trapped in the candy store with a very bitchy Jen, which led to a very bitchy Nate, and that doesn't make the time go by fast at all. All eight plus hours of it. I really could have used some perky, adorable Anna - or at least some funny-bitter Maeve. The staff meeting mostly seemed to exist to mostly list things that I personally had done wrong recently. I managed to make up some half-assed criticisms of Lori, just to keep things fair. Try being on your toes for once, beyotch! No one was in any mood to go out that night, which was fine by me because I had no desire to see the same repeated sequel costume "slutty ______" Slutty cat, slutty angel, slutty devil, slutty nurse, slutty schoolgirl, slutty Atilla the Hun, and so forth. I was so excited about wearing my robot costume to work (take little naps inside, completely incapable of helping out at all) but Lori was like, "Can't have your face covered," so I went as the only natural thing: slutty girl. I still have the body for it, thankfully. Wait. I'm not thankful for that at all. Stupid little girl muscles. Anna kept calling me Natalie, and I had to keep covering my ass crack when I bent down because my jeans were too low. .

Once again, I am saved by "Safety Dance." Thank you, rousing synth line. Would that I could travel back in time and listen to only mid-90's radio. That would be pleasant. Bubble of irreverance

It's not that my life is bad - or even very hard. It is, however, a touch unbalanced. My life more or less revolves around a trifecta of concerns: Social, Academic, and Financial - and there is a tendency for each week to focus on one of these extremes. For instance, two weeks ago, my concerns were mostly financial - the Hot Topic thing, for one, and the fact that I didn't have shit for money. Between the party, the thing with my mom, and Missy coming to visit, last week's focus was on social concerns. And, as these things tend to flow, we are now full up on academic concerns this week. 2 tests ("midterms," the liars) on Thursday, 3 full-fledged ads to make, and one research proposal and bibliography to write and revise (this would also include the results of 34 surverys I need to make up... unless an ethics committee is reading this; then I am joking, haha! In fact, this is all fiction! There isn't even an Allison Helm at this school!) Do I see this cycle ending any time soon? Almost certainly not. Anytime one branch goes out of whack and I need to focus on it, I neglect the other concerns so that they eventually become concerns of themselves. I've thought about fixing it, of course, but like that whole "perfect happiness" thing, I would really have to become a Buddhist or something, and I wouldn't know where to begin. Spend less? Study more often, earlier? Maybe I just like the stress. Makes me feel like I'm doing something.