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tuesday, november 25, 1997, 03:00

It's all piling up. I'm scared of not being able to finish. I'm tired. And my parents are going to read this and get worried about me.

I was told by one of my friends that I have the symptoms of depression. I was told by another friend that since he's known me, my general state of being in relation to happiness has been on a steady decline. He said that I have a core of fun and happiness, but I've got a shell of depression. wonderful.

Ironically enough, this doesn't make me very happy.

wednesday, november 26, 1997, 04:00

In 12 hours i will be leaving this home and going to another. I can't afford to do this. I have too much work to do, too much to think about. But family is important. Moreso than anything else thses days.

Related. If you happen to be at my old high school, you will be unable to access large portions of my page. Aparently, this journal, as well as the quotes page are both inaccessable.

reason: inappropriate language/content.

I find this rather amusing.

Killed myself in the theatre today.

And the end is not in sight.

And I think I was convinced today to only take three classes next semester.

But let me deal with this next week before I deal with anything else.

... oh, right, and my roommate's asleep on the floor. Again.

thursday, november 27, 1997, 01:33

so here i am. back at home. and the left shift key doesn't work. and too much typing on this keyboard is going to kill me. and i've reverted back to my normal vacation tv schedule. i have the work to do. why am i not doing it. ah, right. because i'm lazy.

I either did a good thing today, or i lost $20. or both. coming back, in the parking lot of mcdonalds, somewhere along I95, a young man approached us. his jacket was draped over his right shoulder. very strange, at first, and all the while talking to him expecting him to pull a knife or a gun or something from under the coat.

but he didn't.

he weaves a story of a couple of students, driving from boston to new york, needing money to get gas so his girlfriend can catch her flight. the cops? not helpful in the least. and he needs the cash.

so.

i gave him a twenty and a business card.

he claims that he will send me the money. i suppose it'll be a test of the human spirit and all that. my thinking, then and now, is that this guy, whether the story was true or not, needed money. regardless of what it was (hrm, icky tense shift there... oh well), he needed the money, and honestly, i didn't.

i mean, it's twenty bucks. i could spend that on anime or... never mind. inside joke. you probably wouldn't get it. at this point, i don't think i would.

maybe i'll actually try to get some work done.

ha.

friday, november 28, 1997, 00:27

I fail.

I thought i had it under control, but I find myself to have been badly mistaken. Getting through this week will be hard.

That's what's going on in my head right now. I find that I've been writing more and more lately, probably because it's a form of procrastination, and I can justify doing it, so it's something that, in my head, "needs to get done" which means that I can work on it and not feel badly that I'm not doing anything else.

Sitting here on the floor of my room, listening to the reception on my walkman drift in and out. I'm cold, as our house isn't as warm as the dorms. I'm looking at the piles of work sitting to my right and realize that there's not actually enogh time to finish what I'm doing.

Crash and burn.

And hope there are fire extinguishers waiting for me at the bottom.

On the other hand, i found out that two of my friends, whom I've never met in real life, but have been talking to quite a bit over the computer, are getting married. What's up with that? Such weirdness is life. Such weirdless is love.

I can only hope to be that weird.

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